Tails Combined
by Ultimagu
Summary: A return trip to Lindblum answers all the questions one might have had about those with tails. WIP.
1. Prelude to Gizamaluke's Grotto

**********AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**********Review Commentaries:**

**********Lyralamora:** Surely you jest? Zidane/Freya is by far my favorite of all the pairings in Final Fantasy IX! I go nuts every time I read Practical Medicine by Myush. By the way, I reccommend that story for you if you have not yet found it.

**Captain Deadpool: **As usual I find your comments are unique and interesting!

**darkdrow: **Thank you for your compliments on my writing! I very much enjoy to hear of it and your money should be in the mail by now.

**DDX Delta: **You're in luck! After a long hiatus from my edits and continued writing this past summer, I have some time to work with my stories once more! Though...that's partially because I don't have a job now and am going stir crazy. -.- This story will have additional chapters!

**(Story)**

So, as best as he could figure out, the girl he'd had a crush on had poisoned him and decided to flippantly run off into danger. Gee, how fantastically wonderful. Zidane was ready to kick himself over the entire situation. Hell, she pulled the wool over his eyes and snuck off with Rusty to boot! Not that, that was any terrible loss considering the eyesore the man called his armor. It was amazing he hadn't died from eating with rust covered gauntlets.

Tail twitching spasmodically, Zidane crossed his arms in a tad bit of a huff. She had left and now here he was thinking about Rusty. He had it bad for this girl, that girl whose orange overalls didn't diminish the feel of her soft behind. Oh how he wished he could take a handful of it, grip it in one of their, hopefully, many excursions together.

Not that Zidane had ever noticed, but Vivi sure noticed that their pseudo-leader's tail was soothing and wagging once more like a furry pendulum.

"Tribal, pray tell why we are headed for Lindblum once more?" the voice of the only ...possibly only ...female in the group came to reach him near the front of the group. Dressed in her red coat and red hat with wings on it, one might think they were standing to a statue or a anthropomorphic love-slave. Freya couldn't count the number of times someone had come up to her or _him_ wondering if the fur was real, where they sold it, for 80 gil could they put on a leash and lic-... The people of Treno were disgusting. Nobles who thought the world was born and made of gil and would perish the moment gil was nowhere to be found. As if the little coins with various moogles and historic characters on it like Cloud the Avenger or Sora the Dreamer, or even the difficult to find Ramza the Heretic, were the essence of life and existence.

"We lost a great deal of potions and antidotes when that Ironite attacked when we stopped with Choco near South Gate. Since Quina," Zidane took a moment to direct a glare at the strange... thing despite knowing that Qu's rarely detected emotion beyond gluttony, "decided eating the pink flying dragon was more worth our while than just killing it, and then threatened to eat Choco since _most_ of the Ironite got away."

That had been a fiasco in and of itself, that one battle. Every now and then it felt like they were up against something special and the very air around them would change to accommodate this, but that usually ended with them getting new equipment and escaping with their lives. The Ironite Fiasco, as he might dub it centered around a certain Qu glomping something four times its' size which resulted in massive potion use till the the _flying_ dragon crawled away as fast as its' remaining limb could take it.

Shuddering and hoping to never imagine Qu doing anything on top of something else ever again, he continued, "then there was the strange army of moogles we encountered near the Aerbs who just had to interrogate us since we might be spies from Archades." He stopped, feeling the entire group tic at the that particular memory. "I mean who believes in crossing dimensions? Isn't that for eidolons or something?"

Freya took her moment to reign in the ranting boy, "I do not believe that is our concern whether or not the moogles believe they are from this, Boo-Jerba. For all that is taken account of the moogles, they very well could be. There is more to this world than just our continent, Tribal." Even as she said this, the dragon knight could think of naught but of _him_ and where in the world _he _might be.

Wandering around their group, Quina still seemed to be focused elsewhere. Vivi's curious eyes that could melt the hardest of hearts only watched the two in their auras intermingle. He didn't understand it, but grandfather Quan had always said that Vivi was a special boy, destined for great things. He self-consciously readjusted his hat and wondered if that were true.

Zidane tucked his restless hands behind his head and smiled, but groused about how weird those fluffy hands felt combing over your body for...magicks? How could he carry a magic? It didn't make any sense. Mages could tap magic or essence through the usage of different equipments which linked them to the world around them, right? How could one buy a magic and then license it? How much money could one make off such a market?

"Dragon! Dragon! Dragon is yummy-yummy snack for Quina!" shouted the Qu in its' almost tear-jerking voice. Off he/she ran towards Lindblum, mistaking the gate, for a dragon for the fifth time now. Neither Freya or Zidane envied the guards who had to clean up the sheer amount of spittle Quina launched at it every time he/she got close. Feeling a long day coming before them, they all made their way into Dragon's Gate with apologetic looks at the few people down here before making their way topside.

* * *

(Five Hours Later)

Vivi carefully had to consider his next move. Should he assault the one on the left or perhaps the one on the right? He could lay down something to take them off their guard, or he could pull some muscle and see if he forced them on the run. Feeling time tick in his head he placed down his nymph card and, if he could only grin, he saw the worried look of his opponent as a combo took two cards through combat and idly took another locked in the corner. Vivi would have several Cid the Headmaster coins tonight which was fortunate because his Cid the Pilot coins were not going to pay for their rooms tonight.

Walking away from the sobbing man, the innocent boy-mage searched for his next victim. He felt bad about it, honestly. But between Quina's eating everything out of establishments, along with Zidane's and Freya's attempts to drink themselves into sex or stupor, sometimes both, put a strain on their purse that beating monsters simply didn't cover. The cost of repairs, weapons, and new medicines was something that always needed to come into play as well and none of his companions seemed willing to do such calculations.

It did provoke a thought, how did all those beasts manage to get the gil anyway? Sure he'd seen a potion tangled into a fang's fur which was chasing him during the Hunt, but that didn't answer the question. How many mist monsters were assaulting people to get gil like that? Vivi could readjust his hat in an attempt to not think of how many people might have died for this economy to be possible.

* * *

Quina found hirself seeking a new eatery in the business section of the city. Lindblum, despite having been so close, always seemed to amaze Quina. One could see the airships in the marsh as they passed by, but it didn't change the fact that they were so much bigger up close. Quina hardly thought he/she could eat the whole thing, he/she'd have to settle for engine room, if it came down to it. Without preamble Quina shouted at a merchant woman in a stall offering her gyshal pickles, "Quina NO GUILTY! Quina NO EAT ENGINE!" Before waddling off leaving Grandma Pickle in a daze, trying to blank the thing's tongue smacking her face from her mind. Sadly, she was now scarred for the rest of her life.

* * *

In another dive bar, different from the usual but still just as low-class as could be, Zidane and Freya sat side by side passing shot glasses sampling the different beverages of the bar together. They were on their 7th pair of various alcoholic drinks by now.

"Zidane Tribal, I've come to believe that beyond the grotto lies misfortune," Freya grumbled darkly, as she had been for some time despite the merriment of their outing.

To her side, Zidane took a quick gulp of his shot and slammed it back down. "Yousa have to believe that the best ish poshible!" He was not exactly on his 7th round, having a flexible tail to grab drinks as the waitress passed without her notice. He avoided the stereotypical hiccup at the end of his sentence to avoid being thrown out and laid his head down softly on the counter, eyes watching her as she took her own shot down in response.

The air became frigid in the bar, her demeanor condescending most in the establishment. The waitress or barkeep didn't seem affected by it at all, but the other patrons looked either scared or smug. A particularly thick look lug came towards the two of them, a swagger to his step that was more than drunkenness or confidence. He looked downright determined and ready for a fight if need be.

His heavy footfalls stopped to her right, between her and Zidane. Poking the teenager in the arm with a meaty sausage he attempted to sound somewhat cool, "Beat it punk, the lady ain't interested in scum." Instead, he sounded like a walrus in heat trying to make love to a dark lord's boy-who-lived collection of action figures with some assistance by the dark lord (and maybe a couple of sycophantic followers used as a blood lubricant sacrifice). There was a lot of scraping, sliding, and it ended with a bunch of wet stuff in the face.

Zidane wiped the spittle from his cheek, uninterested in the slob who thought with the bigger of his two brains, located somewhere inside his breeches. His eyes continued staring at the woman beside him, 'oh my dear cousin, what big brea-...' his train of thought was cut off with another sharp jab of the meaty sausage. "Didn'tcha hear me ya little shit, the lady ain't interested!" Now the walrus must be climaxing because his voice thundered around the dive and stopped people in their tracks. A sea of eyes turned in a monotonous fashion towards the source of the bestiality scene, or at least that's what their ears had told them it was.

Zidane cast his eyes to look off towards the eyesore instead of the cleavage. "Ish poshible she likesh my tail diddle-bit-sh!" He roars in kind, in a terribly drunken stupor. It did not register in his mind how his slur was affecting his speech. All that registered was the red splotches filling the eyesores face, the little shakes and tremors as a pressure seemed to be building inside him, the slow movement of muscle backwards, ready to pounce and tackle the tail-waving character.

"If you wish to end up in a ditch where neither the sun or Reis herself could find you, by all means continue," came the cool and frigid voice of one particular Burmecian. She took another gulp of her shot and slammed the glass down to emphasize her point, tail swatting angrily behind her smacking the stool beside her with a steady tap of frustration.

"Look babe, I know it must be hard fer ya to find a good guy in yeh life," the eyesore lamented towards her, forgetting about the monkey-boy altogether, "but taking up monkey-boy is worse than just being a rat-face love." Should a pin drop, they could all have probably heard it. Open mouth, insert foot, shove it when it refuses to move. "I mean, I'd be willing to diddle which wiles lil' ratface doll, but we needs teh find a place with a bath so I can scrub mehself afterwards."

The man expected for one or the other, possibly both to jump at him with sharp, pointy objects and stab him in unkind places till the barkeep decided the show was over after a couple of minutes. Not that he cared for his brother anyway, blood shouldn't charge for the same grog you helped carry into the place.

The man was not expecting for two tails to grab a different ankle and pull his legs out from under him, sending his head flying into the wooden floor with a sharp crack followed by the thud of his form shaking the entire building. It remained quiet afterwards with tension until the barkeep waved them towards the door, "Get outta my bar you drunk bastards."

Zidane looked ready to tackle the barkeep, ruin two members of the same family in one day till Freya placed her elongated fingers on his shoulder. Looking up at her he sighed and ended up leaning in to her as they left the bar, two tails behind them oddly enough waving in tune.

* * *

Vivi found himself surrounded by angry card players. All of them shouting at a store owner who had just sold a rare oglop card to a man from Treno for a lesser price than what he had been offering it to them for in price. Originally, Vivi had come into the shop looking for somewhere to sell the spares he'd won off of some guy passed out in an alleyway. But when he'd seen the oglop card, he just felt a desire to be able to use it against Alleyway Jack and wipe the smug grin off the thief's face. It was because of that jerk that he still cried himself to sleep at night, lamenting the loss of his grandfather's memento.

He'd even offered the shop keeper a Ramza the Heretic and a few Madelene the Child coins, altogether being 1,040 gil in exchange for the card. The nerve of the man! He had completely ignored him for favor of a noble.

Vivi wasn't quite sure when all of the shouting had died out to leave the entire room asleep. But he placed the coins he'd offered into the man's hand and took the card, whistling a jaunty tune.

* * *

Quina rubbed hir belly as a spasm coursed through it. It had not been so long since Quina had reached out for Vivi, nearly consuming the little black mage. And yet it seemed that Quina was more content now than ever. Sure the tail-flapping couple might not believe hir since few outside the Qu could, but Quina... was with child.

* * *

Two figures stumbled down the alley, rounding their way into the selected inn for the night. The other would have already gathered in their room, making a mess which their purse could ill afford considering the troubled times. The reality of war was upon them and what lay beyond the western Aerbs could very well change their entire world.

The two figures, leaning side by side, climbed the stairs of their intended inn and descended into the darkness of their room. Quina and Vivi should have already settled in their other room, quite possibly causing enough ruckus to leave a heavy mark on their purse, which they could ill afford.

It was as Zidane was undressing that he felt, rather than saw, a hand wrap itself around the base of his tail, rubbing it gently. The hormones that gushed through his system, the heavy stain of heat in his face and the low purring all pointed to the effect of this action.

"I do enjoy your tail, Zidane Tribal," came the soft voice whispering somewhere near his ear. The cool breath which matched her frigid nature, did not match the slow twisting of her thinner tail around his thick course one. It brought only a couple of words to his drunken conscious...

"I knew it!" Then Zidane passed out on their bed for the rest of the night, not likely to remember a word of what passed, and why his old friend Freya was licking the inside of his ear with her long tongue.

**(Story)**

**AN: November 17th, 2011: WOW! It has been a long time since I've done anything for any of my stories. I mean, seriously...holy shit. But, I've moved away from _Haremization_ for the time being so I can focus on some of my other stories. In the meantime I have been thinking of Highschool of the Dead and a fanfic I might be interested in writing for that. More details to come.  
**

******AN2:** I hope you all enjoyed the story, I know I enjoyed writing the accompanying lemon which I shall read in private quite... uhhh... vigorously. Should anyone decide to write a sequel or a lemon to this, all I want is the lemon. -!- I mean the credit!

**Reviews are most welcome.**

**Author's Announcements:**

I know hardly anyone reads my profile (which wouldn't matter since it's out of date anyway), so I have posted these following announcements in all of my stories to let you formally know that I will be attempting to write chapters for most of my stories once again. I cannot guarantee anything, but I am most willing to make the effort.

That's the important part. Here come the details (your queue to leave if you want).

**Reasons Why I Haven't Been Writing:**

Well…geez, put me on the spot without time for cookies or milk. I haven't been writing mostly because of the combined dedications my life has required of me. In the time since I wrote _Memoirs of a Time Traveler_ I have done the following things, each further complicating my life as a burgeoning adult:

1. Began a polyamorous relationship.

2. Managed to get my girlfriend of five years pregnant.

3. Fought with the parents of the newest member of our 'Triad' in the Triangular relationship.

4. Finally given up the idea of trying to treat both of my girlfriends equal in public status and married my pregnant girlfriend (to avoid the evil state of Indiana's bureaucracy).

5. Had my mother-in-law move in to help us with bills.

6. Had a child whom we call Alex.

7. Managed to obtain a 35 hour job (which previously had been 20 hours since after #3 but before #4).

8. Have continued my undergraduate education throughout the entire process.

**Reasons Why I Will Begin Writing Anew:**

These are the reasons why I'm more optimistic about a renewed writing!

1. Resigned from my job since my boss is a douche and was probably going to fire me anyway.

2. Finals are over!

3. Looking for another job and taking care of Alex, but still plenty of free time from the additional hours (some 70 in my week) which have been freed up recently.

4. Because I hate to see 'abandoned' on my stories!

I look forward to presenting everyone with wonderful new material on old ideas. Let it be known, however, that not all of my lack of posting is from a lack of writing. I have written three chapters for various stories when my computer crashed around seven months ago. Don't blame me, blame the elves.

So, without further ado, I bid you welcome into a new age of writing by Ultimagu.


	2. On the DainesHorse Basin

**********AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**(Story)**

It has been said that the meteorological patterns of Burmecia were caused by the way that the Aerbs caused air to rise from around Cleyra and then fall around the capital city of Burmecia itself. This was also rebuked as unlikely since the coast was not plagued by such onslaught of rain, but then others argued that the rain should be falling on the coast due to the easterly winds in the region, which was why Alexandria received less rain than the Evil Forest below her cliffs.

Whatever the reason, Zidane knew that he disliked this rain. It made him feel like he was going to become another drowned rat. Yet even as he thought that image the burning bodies at Gizamaluke's Grotto. Who could think of the real horrors that were being played out in the Kingdom of Burmecia now?

What Zidane did not speak of to his friends, lest he worry Freya even more, was a week ago when they had escaped from the Evil Forest and he had led the group to North Gate where Rusty had mentioned the war flag. Just a week ago war was on the minds of Alexandrians, and now it had come to pass. How do you bring that sort of thing up in the face of Freya's grim determination to move on and seek out her liege.

The raining fields around them didn't seem to improve anyone's mood either. Freya was leading the party despite Zidane's desire to always remain in charge. Her coat seemed to reflect the blood of her countrymen who had been slain whilst she was away on her quest for _him_. Her mood was plummeting into the very depths of despair as she circuitously thought of _his_ leaving and how she had left in search of _him_ and then _he_ had not shown up and yet neither had she. She was as much at fault for deaths in Gizamaluke's Grotto as _he_, yet _he_ had left to be better than Alexandrian knights, and still it was for naught because _he_ had never returned!

Vivi, as ever impressionable and good-natured, could only stare up at Freya with such worry that he would become self-conscious twist his hat with anxious trepidation. His small body had to run almost constantly to keep up with the dragon knight whose tail swished and flicked in a violent tune. Not too long ago he had seen that same tail wrap in curls around the thicker and bushier tale of Zidane, but had not dared question the move or motive. Now the tales seemed scalded if they accidentally touched, and so Zidane was in the rear of the troop while Freya pushed ever farther ahead.

Then there was Quina. Nobody rightly understood what Quina was still doing here. He/She had made it clear that he/she was going through a difficult time for Qu's. Particularly something about loaves in the oven, but like most of hir terminology and phraseology, it made no sense to our fellow heroes. Quina was in front of Zidane, slowly helping Vivi along to keep up with the haunched frame of their dragon knight.

The troop kept this formation all day and even as the sun was setting before Zidane was forced to call out to their wayward knight that they needed rest.

So with great effort, Freya halted their train and went about putting up camp for the night. She stole away into the first tent raised to avoid the knowing eyes of her comrades as she felt the scalding tears fall after a long day's silence, but which had been filled with her tormenting thoughts strangling her of any hope or sanity.

When the camp had been set up and Quina had made it hir business to prepare and feed most of the food to little Vivi in a strange case of affection, both Quina and Vivi were sent to bed by Zidane who offered to take the first watch. These plains were infested with too many monsters for them to take a single night for granted.

And so the hours passed, and Zidane watched as the moons rose above the Aerbs and careened in a dance or something as they twisted in and out of each other's reach. Those two moons had never failed ceasing to amaze him, though he had never heard of a good explanation as to why they moved so much through the sky.

The rustling sounds of his tent with Freya caused Zidane to look over in overt wonderment. Would she take over for his shift now and continue the watch? The thought stung in Zidane's mind as he found himself wanting to lie beside her and watch her sleep. Princess who? Something about the way Dagger had so openly poisoned him made him weary of such a woman, not like a woman who could jump hundreds of feet in the air and then strike you down with her trusty spear. Nope...not...worrisome at all...

Instead, when it seemed like Freya would not be coming out, Zidane went over to Quina and Vivi's tent, speaking softly into it, "Quina."

When no answer came, Zidane tried again, "Quina!"

Zidane watched the rustling of his tent with Freya with some anxiety and when Quina still did not answer, he pulled open the flap to see...

"Oh my stars! What the hell are you doing?" Zidane could only stare in wonderment as Vivi seemed covered in some sort of green phlegm as Quina lay on the ground and visibly strained.

The Qu looked up at Zidane with such frightening coldness that it chilled the rapscallion youth to his core, "QUINA NO MAKE JU-JU BABY WITH MONKEY MAN!"

Zidane backpedaled, even fell over onto his tail, and ran away over to his own tent to wake Freya in an attempt to save Vivi. When Zidane opened the flap to his tent with Freya he beheld the sight of Freya surrounded by a sea of the same phlegm, her eyes wide and desperate for help. How the hell had this happened? When had Quina the time to do this while he was on watch?

As Zidane struggled to come up with a solution he felt a shadow grow over his shoulder and he felt the chilled breath of the demon from the marsh. It the quietest voice, which wasn't as quiet as some might consider, he had ever heard from the Qu, "You make yummy-yummy snack!"

Zidane felt so lost as he began to flee that he felt those same-old emotions of guilt whenever he left a KO-ed partner behind who he would usually go back to save later because mist monsters usually only ate still-struggling prey. It was one of his greatest feelings of guilt that Blank still stood somewhere in the Evil Forest being forever pinched by one of those monsters.

However, this wasn't the case now for Zidane knew what Qu's did to their prey: they were eaten. His little pal in Vivi would be eaten, and his old friend Freya would be eaten. As if the thought of her being eaten compelled him even more, Zidane turned around to fight the Qu and save his friends from their optional team member.

What was even more surprising was that when he turned around, the Qu was already lined up ready for the battle as if it he/she had known all along of what was going to happen. However, that was not what surprised and disturbed Zidane, it was the zombified forms of little Vivi and the vivacious Freya. Something in his chest seemed to break as he looked at their decomposing forms and had the thought that Vivi's magic would surely allow them to kill these zombie monsters! How could he think of such a thing as to kill his friends?

He had nowhere to run, and now his friends were beyond his reach; they were dead. It was like some bad play that Baku had forced him to be in when he was young. He was even in a strange land that was being invaded by another strange land. He was surrounded by the absurd and the bizarre. He had no idea what he could have done to prevented this. And then with his thoughts so distracted and distraught, a zombified Freya made her way to him and lanced him through the chest. Zidane fell to his knees and looked up into her cold and unforgiving eyes which seemed to clearly say, "I don't lov-..."

Zidane bolted out of bed with a start. He looked around and noticed that the early morning light was beginning to rise up over the Aerbs judging by the amount of light.

Zidane crawled to the front of the tent and looked out to see Freya calmly posted where he had been sitting just that night. She seemed to notice him at once and frowned as she saw how pasty his skin looked. Perhaps the rain was making him come down with a fever. "You fell asleep," she felt the need to say, despite it being so obvious.

Despite how disoriented he was Zidane also felt the need to say, "I have to piss."

And so the morning came as per the usual: boring and rude. Freya could only discredit her theory of hearing Zidane moan her name in agony last night as he did not hide himself very well behind their tent and the rushing sound of his piss flooded her ears. Then there was the sound of the ground hissing from the difference of temperature. Those two things combined caused Freya to cease worrying about Burmecia for a moment and to yell at her friend for being so damn immature.

And yet...

Without a doubt she heard him with night terrors last night; it was why she had taken his post when he seemed to be so sleepy he did not notice her leaving camp to relieve her own bladder. Perhaps that day at the bar just a couple of days ago had really had an effect on him. Who could say? Who cared? Her home was being invaded by unfeeling demons from Alexandria. She would avenge her people and take care to Alexandria's very doorstep.

Death would bring about the end of Alexandria in her mind. Freya would incarnate that death if need be. They had killed her when they killed her countrymen, as she would kill them and their countrymen.

Rising with new morbid thoughts of death and revenge, Freya was not yet prepared enough for the sight of the capital and its' ruined glory.

**(Story)**

**AN: November 18th, 2011: Now how is that for another addition to _Tails Combined_? I am thinking of following the pairing all the way to the Hills of Despair and possibly beyond. We'll just have to see what kind of inspiration I have. I will soon be posting another installation so that the official update date for this story will be tonight or tomorrow and people will know that I have begun adding material to this story as well. I will soon make the edits to my author's page about the same updates and edits. As always, I would love to see your reviews even if they're flames. I won't ignore flames, I'm just going to listen and point out what I think about them. ^^**

**Review please or else this author will starve to death and you will be to blame. Yes. You. O.O  
**


	3. As the Skies Cry

**********AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**(Story)**

How long had they been fighting? How long had it been since they had not been in this depressing world? It seemed like ages ago when he had had that fever from sleeping in the rain. It only felt like a distant dream of the time they had spent in the Euronus Plains playing with Choco and working on their teamwork. And he could only distantly reflect on the time when he had chased that bittersweet face round and round the Alexandrian tower.

Now, however, was a time of despair to which the destroyed roof of the Burmecian palace could attest. The imagery of Reis and Burmecians stood shattered here and there, blood spattered the walls or was instantly dried into flakes by the Mage Army. Only the few odd Alexandrian soldiers lay scattered on amongst the rubble, even on the lower levels of the city the rain had yet to wash away the sea of blood. It was a massacre.

Zidane was glad for the few people they had managed to save as their own troop fled towards the center of destruction and carnage, as opposed to away from it like the newly-made homeless. Zidane had a distinct image of the walls around Burmecia being flooded with the blood of Burmecians till the rain drove even that underground. Then this graveyard city would become naught but the bones made of stone.

It was a disturbing image, and it felt improper to think considering just how truly morbid the situation was and how little his thoughts could even imagine the reality of it. He could not wrap his mind around the thought of just how many dead bodies they had passed in the broken streets and homes of Burmecia. It tore into his mind like the lashes of a whip.

However, worse off than he was Freya. She seemed so poised as a dragon knight should be to deal with the threat to her home, and yet Zidane knew that she was no more than 20, just a few years older than himself. How was she really holding up to all of this? The sights, the sounds, the smells?

And here he found himself fighting with the legendary General Beatrix. In Lindblum she was mocked a relic of the old ways of the mist continent, a female general who couldn't even aspire to be as powerful as Madelene who fought the entire Lindblum army back in...whatever year that was, Zidane couldn't be bothered to remember. However, there was a note of praise for a woman who effectively commanded an entire army by the sheer prowess and majesty of her person.

Just as Zidane thought that they might prevail against this mockery of traditionalism, General Beatrix slaughtered them. Zidane knew no more than pain as he fell to the ground in the onslaught of General Beatrix. It seemed no time before the terrible rending sound of the woman's sword ceased and the world was filled with the soft pitter-patter of the rain once more.

Zidane opened his bleary eyes and looked around. In front of him General Beatrix looked down at them with contempt. Her eyes said that they were not even worthy of her time to kill. How demeaning...

Quina was in such agony as he/she laid on the ground. Hir thoughts panicked for the sake of hir child. The first Qu to be born in 60 years and he/she might have been killed before their time had even truly begun.

Vivi could only see darkness in front of his eyes as he pressed his hands into the biting cuts on his shadowed face. His little body writhed and contorted in agony, yet he did not make a sound lest he draw that monster's attention upon his vulnerable form.

It was Freya who interested Zidane the most, and how she was doing. Queen Brahne had made a comment about filthy rats at some point tonight, and now lying on the ground was just such a rat.

Freya's red coat was torn in several places having received, perhaps, the harshest of General Beatrix's annoyed backlash. Her blood, thankfully, only oozed out of her cuts being the best protected of them all with her knightly armor she hid beneath her over-the-top coat. Her eyes spoke of more agony though. As Zidane looked into her eyes, he could see the dispiriting anger, hate, suffering, and yet no fear. Despite those lines he had read all those years ago, particularly:

_"Fear leads to anger..."_

_ "Anger leads to hate..."_

_ "Hate...leads to suffering..."_

Who had spoken those lines in one of his many plays that Baku made him take part of? The fear in his friend had dissipated into nothing but the emotional vices which followed. It was...painful to look at her and know the thoughts thrashing inside her mind as she struggled on to try and slash General Beatrix down.

Zidane could not look on as General Beatrix left them to their own suffering and Freya seemed crushed by the overwhelming weight of her inability to save her home; as if her home's destruction only now came crushing in on her mind and she seemed so dangerously close to the edge of sanity. It was a bittersweet memory to think that not only a week ago had his proud friend won the Festival of the Hunt and slew the Zaghnol all by herself.

Now she was a bleeding and almost-broken knight of a fire-infested realm of eternal rain. The irony was not lost on even the dullest of minds, Zidane; that her liquid blood should be her form of penance against an enemy who so outdid her in strength, but that her blood should remain the red of the fires which caused her to bleed. Zidane had only once heard of the omens between the elements, but this seemed like one of those moments to him.

Yet his attention was drawn away when a man? with white hair approached and seemed to look down at him with these eyes of mystery and wonderment. Zidane felt a connection to him and thought he saw the shimmer of a tail before it was stilled and the woman? spoke to him with that same level of wonderment.

"My, my...we have been busy..." that voice was distant and melodic but it seemed to reverberate off of itself into a cacophonous spell of disaster, perhaps another omen for Zidane to heed.

Then the man turned and walked toward a silver dragon, of the kind Zidane had only ever dreamed, mounted the thing as if it were a pet and flew through the open ceiling of the ruined palace towards some unknown location: possibly Cleyra of which Queen Brahne had been talking about before the Burmecian soldier had intervened.

When even that man had gone, what else was there for them to do but writhe in their agony till they should be prepared to give chase? Zidane was not a quitter, and he knew that Freya had no intention of leaving things settled as they stood now. So about an hour passed before the first of them, Vivi, was able to down one of their potions without crying out from the agony of the movement. The revolting crack and snap and hiss of the potion's effects told the rest of the party just how badly damaged little Vivi's body was.

When Vivi was able to crawl towards his other friends and force them to drink their own potions, the party made the painful process of getting up and out of the eternal rain which seemed appropriate now as they felt like crying with the utter destruction surrounding them.

When the group was finally able to sit on a ledge which had once been some part of the royal court here in Burmecia, perhaps where even nobles once sat and lauded their king, the group looked forward beyond the scenery in front of their eyes. They all were emptied of emotion as their failure rang through them. They were failures, were they not. How many bodies in this room alone were of their making because they took so long in driving through Gizamaluke's Grotto? How much could Zidane, Vivi, Quina, or Freya blame themselves for the utter destruction around them now on their own personal desires back in Lindblum? It was an Gaia-rattling thought, but it did not easily depart from their minds.

Finally it was Quina who stood first, "I look for yummy-yummies," which might have seemed callous if not for the somber manner in which it was spoken. Quina did hir sort of hobble towards a non-caved in doorway and seemed to be searching out the royal kitchens of the palace in hopes of finding something to eat. Freya would have said something about that doorway leading to the armory and the piss-chamber, but what was the point? Who knew just what a Qu might eat?

Then Vivi stood and declared his own intent, "I'm going to try and find a way out," since their entrance had been destroyed in the fight with General Beatrix, and they could not simply fly own on a silver dragon. That just left Zidane and Freya alone whose silence was not broken even after the little waddling frame of Vivi had left the auditorium of the palace.

Zidane did acutely feel Freya's tail wrap around his own and nearly strangle it in an attempt to calm her fraught nerves. The orange ribbon on her tail did not appear to matter as her tail demanded his tail's attention for its' comfort. The whole of Freya, however, only leaned into Zidane's side, and for the first time Zidane had ever known her, cried softly in the ghostly ruin of the domain of her betrayed and possibly dead liege. She cried at the heart of her once glorious home who could not help but continue to cry with her at the ruination of what once was, Burmecia.

**(Story)**

**AN: November 19th, 2011: Alright! Now how is that for some depressing shit? Look, I know some of you will be kind of pissed considering how pleasant the first chapter was and just how contrasted that has been with the previous two chapters. I'm following the mood of the storyline, and frankly the chapter involving Gizamaluke's Grotto, Burmecia, and Cleyra are really fucked up and disturbing when you truly think about how many people died during this stage of the game. **

**I've made this argument elsewhere, but popular culture tends to dim down just how bad some situations are and then skip over into the revenge stage. Final Fantasy IX's portrayal of the destruction of Burmecia does not do the word 'massacre' to its' proper right. Unlike the mood of Final Fantasy VII during the murder of Aerith, Final Fantasy IX does not implement the player to view those moments. The invasion of Burmecia is all after the fact and only then do you see the destruction of Cleyra, which might have 50 people altogether that you see.**

**So just review and I promise to try and move through this depressing shit as quick as I can.**

**Also, I know Freya is actually 21 in the story; I don't care. In order to make a more likeable pairing I'm trying to bridge the gap between a 16 year old Genome and a 21 year old Burmecian. If things couldn't be more difficult, I'm also screwing with your head and involving an ancient Qu with a six month old Black Mage. To add to that, I have the momentous task of trying to go through the most important events starting from the beginning of the game all the way to the end (and possibly after). I've never worked on a project that exceedingly large.**

**Also, to clear up events like General Madelene and the earlier questions about my currency system I'm using for the names of the coinage, I will address those subsequently.**

**For a good timeline of Gaia you should look it up on the final fantasy wikia.**

**Coins:**

**.5: Avon the Playwright  
**

**1: Cid Fabool the Hunter**

**2: Barrett the Gunman**

**5: Cid the Pilot  
**

**10: Cid the Headmaster  
**

**20: Madelene the Child (of which I just fixed the name in the first chapter)**

**25: Korki the Soldier  
**

**50: Cloud the Avenger**

**75: Marcus the Rapscallion**

**100: Wolf (the beast)**

**150: ?**

**200: ?**

**250: ?**

**400: ****Sora the Dreamer**  


**500: Squall the Leonhearted  
**

**600: ?**

**750: ?  
**

**1,000: Ramza the Heretic**

**1,500: ?  
**

**2,000: ?**

**5,000: ?**

**10,000: ?**

**25,000: ****Aerith the Ancient**  


**50,000: ?  
**

**100,000: ?**

**250,000: ?**

**500,000: ?**

**1,000,000: Yuffie the Empress**

**Naturally I want your suggestions as to what to name the other coins.  
**


	4. Into the Sandstorm

**********AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**********Review Commentaries:**

**********j.c. (the doc manager seriously won't let me type your whole name) :** Thank you for your supportive review! I too, obviously, enjoy the Zidane/Freya pairing. I have not yet sampled the Freya/Amarant kind of romance, but in a way it kind of scares me. However, here is another installment for the story. If you add the story on alert (totally not trying to be sneaky .) you'll notice that the updates have thus far been daily. That will change as my outside workload fluctuates, but I have a lot of inspiration and a Thanksgiving break in the meantime. ^^. Anyway, I really love supportive reviews! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I want your ba-... . Moving on!

**Angelique Daemon: **I really like your suggestions for the coins (still the only coin suggestions thus far...but they are good) and I will include them on my list at the end of this chapter. The Vivi/Quina quirk is something that I kind of threw in for shits and giggles when I wrote the first chapter (and subsequently lost all of my inspiration), but I've been molding it towards a better plot anyway. Thanks for the review!

**(Story)**

Zidane wasn't a bio-whatchamacallit, but he didn't know how in the seven hells a tree this large could live; and with so much sand in it to boot! What was a world such as this even existing for? Just a few hundred leagues away it never ceased raining, now in a tree larger than some of the Aerbs there wasn't a drop of moisture anywhere.

Zidane walked around the edge of yet another quicksand-hole and sighed, "This one's gotta small edge guys." He looked back to his traveling party and felt another sigh of complacency come along; just how long had he been traveling with a teenage Burmecian dragon knight, a six month old black mage, and a centurion old Qu. Looking down at his own bizarre tail he couldn't help but feel that the Fates that Baku was always yappin' on about were sick old men like the Boss.

It was Vivi who followed behind his 'big brother', as Zidane had been much more affectionate and caring in a way which Knight Steiner could not produce when he was so...formal. Vivi wasn't used to formal. "O-okay!" Vivi made sure to respond so they did not think he had fallen into one of the death traps again. It would be his luck and some sort of Antlion would pop out of one and eat him like a pip-sized snack.

Quina was following shortly thereafter, much more quiet than normal. The Qu hadn't spoken a word since the world had collapsed around them in the palace of Burmecia. He/She seemed down on something, but refused to say anything more than affirmations or negatives. The others were worried because he/she hadn't even glomped a dying skeleton to eat it. Quina only gave the monkey-man a nod to show that he/she had heard him.

Then, in the rear of their troop, followed Freya: the not-teenage dragon knight of Burmecia and traveler extraordinaire! She was 20 dammit, and she'd kill Zidane if asked if she wanted to do some funny monkey-business since they were young and that's just what teenagers do. She decidedly ignored the way he had been acting since their drunken make-out session back in Lindblum over a week ago.

"Why have I been banned from jumping over these so that we can reach the levers?" Freya asked again over the shrill hiss of another gust of sand. Really, this stuff was starting to get into places sand had no place being.

However, Zidane pretended that the gusts of sand were too loud for him to hear her question so he didn't have to face his unmanly predicament. Really, he was just so annoyed that the sand kept him from climbing as well as he should since it was irking his tail. Instead he turned to Vivi and spoke as loudly as he could to cover up Freya's impending screech of frustration, "Why don't you hold on to my tail Vi? That way we already have you covered?"

It was just the way that the little mage looked up at him that Zidane knew he had said the wrong thing, the way that those eyes seemed to radiate uncertainty and self-deprecation. "Oh...uhm..."

When Vivi reached out to take a hold of his brother's tail, Zidane sighed again feeling an unwanted age creeping into him, "Hey, actually, I have a better plan." He gave the little mage a conspiratory wink that had the said mage twisting his hat in his usual uncertain manner though intrigued and, admittedly, somewhat relieved.

Zidane motioned for Vivi to come a little closer as Quina edged hir way around the rest of the quicksand-hole and Freya bore a hole through Zidane's head with her eyes as she waited behind Quina. When Vivi had come close enough, Zidane spoke in his normal voice which was more like a whisper in comparison to the sound of the wind; however, it reached the little mage just fine and slowly the 'little brother' seemed to be glowing with renewed vibrancy and more of a happy uncertainty, but that uncertainty just wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

When Quina and Freya had finally made it around the, whatever number of quicksand-holes this currently was, they paused at the rather peculiar sight of Zidane and Vivi sitting on a bench made of one of the great tree's many branches. They both appeared to be smoking a cigarette and when Zidane's seemed to fizzle out he leaned over and tapped Vivi's shoulder, proffering the fizzled out fag. Vivi just snapped and the thing came back to life and then it was the little mage who asked, "What took ya girly-girlies so long?"

The look of shock on Freya's face had Zidane trembling from the internal laughter as his body began to convulse. The scene was broken though when Vivi tilted his head and looked up at his big brother to ask, "Did I say it right?"

Zidane laughed so hard out loud that his quaking body fell off the branch into a pile of sand that he rolled around in. He couldn't take the pressure of seeing Freya look like a fish caught out of water, her high and mighty profile going slack in the jaw and her tail drooping to touch the ground. Even Quina seemed to be confused by Vivi's words.

Of course the lack of response from anyone only made Vivi worry more, and so he turned to look back at Freya and Quina and twisted his hat with a trepidatious uncertainty, "U-uhm...it wasn't meant to...to...to be mean!"

Seeing Vivi turn into a little kid once more as opposed to his 'big brother's' protégé, Freya went to go comfort their primary spell-caster and little ward. Freya was surprised when Quina made it to the black mage first and hauled the little guy up into what certainly was going to become a moment of consumption!

"LITTLE POO-POO NEED NO WORRY! QUINA THINK POO-POO IS FUNNY!" Quina shouted in hir usual manner. It was a relief, surprisingly, to hear the Qu shout so loud that a few nearby Carrion Worms roused from their slumber and began crawling towards the party to attack them. Before they had made it to the ensuing battle, Freya kicked the squirming Zidane in his guts with her boot and warned him if he corrupted Vivi she would eviscerate him.

Zidane could only look up at her in awe and wink, thinking it was a sexually-pleasing term from his favorite rat-lady. Freya didn't have the heart to contradict him as the Carrion Worms got close enough to shoot trouble juice at Quina.

* * *

That night the troop made camp on a secluded edge high up on one side of the tunnel. They could see down into the rest of the tunnel easily and could jump down one side to avoid any monsters which made it up the other side.

Without the proper tools and elements, they couldn't make a fire to keep themselves warm. Instead, Vivi was told to sleep close to the tent flaps so that he could be called out immediately in case of an emergency since his magic was the most effective means of dealing with most of these monsters.

Naturally, Quina and Vivi had their tent while Freya and Zidane had the other; it was a situation that none of them had yet to question, so why bother starting to question it?

Freya took the first watch that night and Zidane felt chilled without another body, nor a camp fire, to keep them warm in the desert night. He could only look forward to when Freya was done with her shift tonight since it was Zidane's turn to be able to sleep through the night; it turned out that only having two people do shifts through the night caused two poor fighters the next day so they had begun to rotate between three who would watch for 2-3 hours at a time.

While Freya stood guard outside over the camp, Zidane couldn't help but think of his favoritest thing in the whole world: boobies. "Oh Freya...you shouldn't have...oh...yes..."

Freya pointedly ignored the rustling coming from her tent with Zidane, knowing by now that he was probably masturbating so he could sleep soundly like some baby-man: teenage boy.

Instead she turned to her thoughts on the hope that her people, if only the king and some subjects, were alive! How she held on to that hope with such fervor that she felt like her old self around Zidane and the others: could be merry and forgetful, if only a little.

The city of Burmecia was a land which had long since remained underdeveloped. Where Lindblum and Alexandria had long since addressed their mist-monster issues of state by going to higher elevations in the Aerbs and the smaller Versia mountains along the northern rim of the Mist continent, Burmecia had remained in the lowlands and built a tiered structure up the slopes of the Versians. Where Lindblum had been the first to develop an air armada to protect the peace between the three kingdoms and the Alexandrians at least had the _Red Rose_, Burmecia had naught but patrol airships and freighters. Where Lindblum was a unified force of power and Alexandria at least nominally held control over the nobles of Treno, Burmecia and Cleyra had been at odds for the past 500 years.

Yet Burmecia was her homeland: the land of Eternal Rain. There were customs and quirks and mannerisms and terminology and phraseology and etymology which only she and her people would ever understand as a _part_ of that culture.

Yet even further Burmecia was the land she had sworn to protect with her very life. Burmecia was where she had grown up as an orphan at the age of five. Burmecia was the land which had sheltered its' own and raised her into a fine soldier. Burmecia was where _he_ had taken interest in her. Burmecia was where _he_ had mentored her and tutored her outside of his normal duties. Burmecia was where they had had that quaint kiss on the fountain as if any other subjects under their liege, the king.

Burmecia was also a smoldering lake of rubble and blood.

Freya could not twist her mind from that thought despite her hope, yet hope she would continue to do. For her king was alive, and _he_ was alive somewhere out there in this world. For many of her friends had continued to survive and escaped towards Cleyra, towards Lindblum; she had heard some had set sail for the Outer Continent to a distant trade link of Burmecians who still had an active sea navy which outclassed the shredded sea navies of the other powers. Her ears still burned from the comment of rats fleeing from a sinking ship. That Alexandrian soldier did not live to go home to her lover, she died by the lance of Freya Crescent.

For all of the pain and torment she had gone through in seeing the poor state of her people in Gizamaluke's Grotto, in North Gate, in the ruined city itself... Freya knew that there were scores of her people still alive somewhere above her.

Freya looked above her, as if her eyes could pierce the darkness and the thick wood and sand, to see if Cleyra was within her sight: within her grasp. She would her lord and continue to protect him even if _he_ never did appear again, for that was her sword duty. Yes! The fires of hope burned within Freya as strongly as they had when she had kissed _him_ on the fountain in front of the palace to pledge her eternal love.

When the hours had passed and Freya turned to Quina to take over for her, it seemed as she had a new lease on life. Freya waited only long enough for Quina to come out of hir tent before Freya slipped into her own where Zidane lay asleep.

When Freya came into their tent, she noticed right away that Zidane had taken all of the blankets. She sighed, as if annoyed, though she understood. As cold as it was out here he needed all he could to keep him warm since he did not have a warm body with which to radiate.

In fact, in order to ensure she remained warm as well Freya only took off her overcoat and armor before slipping in beside Zidane. She felt more annoyed than usual when his tail wrapped around her own. That monkey business would have to stop.

Long and delicate fingers extracted his tail from her own and she rolled away from the monkey-boy. _He_ would return when _he_ heard of how she had saved the king, even while _he_ was so far away 'protecting' the kingdom.

Freya did not notice the look of pain which crossed Zidane's face when Freya extracted herself from him, as if she no longer was leaning in his direction.

Even as Freya slowly careened towards slumber, Zidane was now awake with new worries. Why did Freya extract his tail from hers? She had always been passively receptive to it since that night in Lindblum. Maybe she had never really meant to be so forward with him, and it was only the alcohol which had made her be so.

Zidane felt crushed. Not only had his crush poisoned him and then run away, but his old friend, certainly not someone he might possibly sort of kinda like, had even been teasing with his heart.

Zidane felt startled by this thought. Why did he care if she was teasing with him? Sure, it wasn't very much like her. In fact, she probably hadn't been teasing at all. She had had one moment while drunk and then didn't know how to react to his passive advances later until she grew tired of them just now! That made sense! Despite it being so logical...Zidane still felt torn by it.

Freya had missed the moment as Zidane turned away from her now as well, holding on to his tail as if it had been burned. She only had _him_ on her mind.

* * *

Quina sat outside and absently rubbed hir tummy. It would be a little while till he/she could go see Master Quale and see if he could check on hir child. The thought made the portly Qu worry. The howling sands of the desert tree was so different from hir quiet little marsh, and different also from the big big city of Loquat Berry*, and if Quina thought long enough he/she noticed the difference between Loquat Berry and Blueberry* which was so wet.

Regardless, the child he/she carried would be protected and give refuge in the marsh. The Marsh always protected its' own. It had since the beginning of the Gourmand Ways. ...or so Quina had told people for over fifty years.

**(Story)**

*** Lindblum**

*** Burmecia  
**

**AN: November 20th, 2011: Well we have another installment of _Tails Combined_. I would suggest listening to Cleyra's Trunk and Immoral Melody while listening to this chapter. In fact, I will answer one of the questions brought forth by my personal beta-slave and put a list of recommended songs to listen to while reading the chapters below. For those interested in my other works, don't expect updates for _Haremization_ or any of the Brianback stories for awhile because I'm having too much fun writing for _Tails Combined_! Heck, I might even do some edits for _Gil by the Day_ just for the fun of it!**

**As a note, I figured Quina might just remember the places they visit through food names. It was a small quirk that I enjoyed implementing though it took forever to find something which fit.**

**As another note, it should be a little easier to tell that I'm trying to change the writing style for each character, more specifically what is said and how they say it, even in the narrating perspective. I've made some progress in making Zidane's sections be a little more crass and rude while Freya or Vivi's sections do not usually use contractions and what not, but I'm open to more suggestions.**

**I'm still looking for more names for these coins! Final Fantasy series only! I even included more coins so that people have more opportunities. These will become more important later into the story when I begin referring to prices by coins...for my own personal sake of complicating shit. I promise to put an actual number with the prices and things so it won't be too confusing for everyone. I just want to help spice up the personality of the world I'm creating here.**

**So, all of that being said, please review! I love reviews. Notice the nice comments I give to people who review? I even do that for flames...though not as nice. -.- Review! (takes out review-whore dress) or I'll dress up and sashay my wrinkly old hips across your screen!  
**

**Songs:  
**

**Chapter 1- Lindblum Theme**

**Chapter 2- Freya's Theme**

**Chapter 3- Burmecian Kingdom, Immoral Melody, Kuja's Theme, Sword of Doubt  
**

**Chapter 4- Cleyra's Trunk, Immoral Melody**

**Coins:**

**.5: Avon the Playwright  
**

**1: Cid Fabool the Hunter**

**2: Barrett the Gunman**

**4: ?  
**

**5: Cid the Pilot  
**

**10: Cid the Headmaster**

**15: ?  
**

**20: Madelene the Child (of which I just fixed the name in the first chapter)**

**25: Korki the Soldier**

**40: ?  
**

**50: Cloud the Avenger**

**75: Marcus the Rapscallion**

**100: Wolf (the beast)**

**150: Kain the Betrayer  
**

**200: ?**

**250: ?**

**300: ?**

**400: ****Sora the Dreamer**  


**500: Squall the Leonhearted  
**

**600: ?**

**750: Terra the Esper  
**

**1,000: Ramza the Heretic**

**1,500: Setzer the Gambler  
**

**2,000: Fang the Hunter**

**3,000: ?  
**

**5,000: ?**

**10,000: Balthier the Leading Man  
**

**25,000: ****Aerith the Ancient**  


**50,000: ?  
**

**100,000: Fran the Sky Pirate  
**

**250,000: ?**

**500,000: ?**

**1,000,000: Yuffie the Empress**


	5. Cleyran Revelations

**AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**Review Commentaries:**

**Myshu:** Thanks! It means a lot to hear you say such nice things about my story considering how well respected your own is! I know the story is progressively dark in this area with the Burmecian War but it is a very dark period in the game which I don't think many fanfiction here covers well enough. It's a mass genocide of an entire kingdom and you only see some 20 survivors out of what was probably 40,000 to 60,000 if not more. I don't know how Freya doesn't pop up more in the game with lines like, "I'm gonna grind Kuja into dust." I don't know how she just seems to forget her anger towards Beatrix and work alongside her when saving Dagger. I think the game just chibified that whole section and brought your attention to other things like the destruction at Lindblum and how it even turns on the denizens of Alexandria. I like to get realistic with what is happening in the storyline, and that means that some 1,000 to 2,000 Burmecians might still be alive after what's gone on thus far. I honestly want people to think of Burmecia, the city, as like a lake of blood and rubble because realistically, that's what it is.

**j.c.: **I'm very glad to see another review! Reviews are my motivation to keep writing; and, frankly, I usually get so few reviews that I tend to get bummed with a story and stop writing. I doubt that will happen with this story as it is progressing nicely. There will be more funny moments, I just need to swerve around the really, really dark stuff called genocide, and that will take another chapter or so. After that, there will be much more goofiness again. Thanks for the sub!

**(Story)**

So here he was amongst a group of beautiful ladies about 300-400 leagues in the sky on the top of a tree that might be higher than Lindblum's Castle Observatory elevation. That was a scary thought, but just look at those boobies...

As Zidane ogled his two tour guides who seemed, moderately, impressed by Zidane's own interpretation of his tales and compliments for their tails, Vivi had found that his kind was entirely unwanted in the settlement of Cleyra. There had been several soldiers who had chased him around the settlement as soon as he entered, and it seemed as if no one would be coming to his rescue any time soon. Poor little Vivi had a few scratches but proved to be too fast for his would-be murderers to catch up to him.

Quina on the other hand had found hirself a quiet little nook on the outskirt of town that looked out over the sandstorm protecting the big big tree. He/She didn't know if he/she could just leave the progenitor of their child, and the quiet outlook helped to sooth hir thoughts once more.

* * *

It was Freya of their group who went to the Council Hall to meet with her king, King Bartholomeus the III, a distant relative of the Alexandros lineage though closer to the Fabools. Freya knelt in a bow of loyalty and humility before her king, she did not want to speak of how long it had been since she had done thus. It was her liege who spoke first, "Sir Freya Crescent, it is an honor to have you among my troops once more." His tone did not normally brook upon the snide or petty, but his people were now a scattered race and it was partly to blame for his highest dragon knights disappearing one after the other.

"My lord, I have not since my departure found Sir Fratley," she quietly spoke and felt her heart wrench at saying _his_ name.

"No, I'd expect not considering his last report came from the Outer Continent among some foolish brigands who cannot stop drinking from the rise of Reis' sun to its' fall," Bartholomeus the III felt his tone clip at her ears and tail desiring to further make his wayward dragon knight feel her place amongst her people. "In fact, I also have-..." he stops a moment to correct, "_had_ a report from you which said you were searching amongst the many people of Lindblum in hopes of finding clues as of three years ago."

Freya bowed her head as if scalded with boiling water which we call shame, "My lord, there were too many..." she grew quiet as if feeling that she was trying to make excuses in the face of her people's genocide. "I returned when I heard of the attack on Burmecia."

"Is that so? I heard that the reports reached around the time of the Festival of the Hunt," Bartholomeus the III spoke with an air of curiosity before bringing down the vocal ax, "which I heard you won and were in the audience of his majesty Regent Cid Fabool the IX when the missive was delivered at last by my _loyal_ subject." The king swept to the side of the hall in an anger which he wished to control from a violent outburst, "which was delivered almost two weeks ago while the battle for Burmecia raged on..."

Freya further felt her shame and lowered her one propped knee to show her subservience before her king. "I have rid Gizamaluke's Grotto of the Alexandrians and their accursed Black Mages for a contingent of Lindblum guards to secure and send provisions while they prepare their air fleets."

Bartholomeus the III turned as his anger boiled over at last, "and where in the Reis' name are these air fleets which Fabool promised us two weeks ago? Where are the provisions he guaranteed would feed my people? Where is Master Gizamaluke now when we desperately need his draconian aid? Why have the Grand Dragons now scoured the Alexandrians as they cross the Versians and the Aerbs to destroy us? Where were my first and second dragon knights to lead my forces in the battle of North Gate and the battle for Burmecia?"

Freya felt a hot sting as her tears burnt their way down her face and fell to the floor at, not only being chastised, but for her failure and for the failure of her beloved. Where was _he_ now that they needed _him_.

"To add to these atrocities, I am bound to accept aid from these fundamentalists!" Bartholomeus swept from one side of the Hall to the other as his voice raised and his desperation stabbed at his heart, "Where are my people? Where is my wife? Where is my son!"

In her mind's eye she remembered a familiar burnt ring on a charred hand which had nearly destroyed her very psyche when she had seen it: the queen had not emerged from the battle alive.

"And this ragtag group which follow you, what in Reis' name are they?" the king regains his voice as his desperation and grief are overcome by his wrath.

"M-my lord," Freya began, her frame quivering in a kowtow in front of her king, "they have provided aid against the demons which ail us in these troubled times. They-...they have...they helped clear Burmecia of the soldiers stationed there after the battle. They even aided me in my attempt to kill Queen Brahne and General Beatrix."

Bartholomeus swung his head in surprise at this information. "You say, attempt? As in you did not _succeed_?"

If possible, Freya's form sunk further down against the floor as she silently sobbed before answering, "Y-yes m-my lord. General Beatrix was too great for us to handle, she merely toyed with us. But the soldiers stationed in Burmecia were-..." Freya searched for an appropriate word for how she had reacted to the sights of her ruined home, "_decimated_, and we found almost a score of refugees still within the city whom we rescued."

The cheeks of the king bloated as he breathed out the steam of his anger as he looked down on the form of his second-in-command, who was only lesser than Sir Fratley himself. She was laying flat on the floor in a traditional stance taken to open herself up to be cut in quarters without reservation. Bartholomeus the I had expected it of his subjects who utterly failed him in 1320, and his descendant, Bartholomeus the III, had only seen his father expect it of a traitor once who 30 years ago had warned the Alexandrians and King Titus the IV, husband of Queen Brahne, of the impending invasion.

The king reigned in his anger and breathed deeply to rid himself of the foul winds of his wrath. The form before him was his greatest dragon knight with the long absence of Sir Fratley, and if she had managed to come within striking distance of Queen Brahne that spoke highly of her growing prowess. She had even managed to clear Gizamaluke's Grotto, though the absence of Master Gizamaluke himself did not speak well for how that battle fared.

Bartholomeus knelt down and placed a clawed hand on Freya's quivering shoulder, she truly lamented her failures and he could not afford to quarter her as his father might have done so easily with the traitor from 30 years before. "Arise Sir Freya Crescent. There is yet time to correct the winds against us, and with Reis' favor we shall descend upon the Alexandrians like a dragon from the sky."

Freya looked up in awe as the blighted visage of her king looked down at her with a gentle hand to her shoulder. She quickly lifted herself to a kneel of loyalty once more and bowed her head lower than her king's, "Thank you my lord. I will never forget your kindness upon this unworthy subject."

As the king stepped away, the Primarch of Cleyra stepped forth from the side. The True Religion of Reis did not allow for him to feel insulted by the heretical king's words. The twinge he felt was merely a worldly affliction and he mentally cast it aside to now death with the trouble at hand. "If I may interject at this point Sirs, Cleyra is a well-defended post, but she is not impregnable. Though the sandstorm keeps much at bay, the road through the tree of Reis is open and only a few junctions are easily defended from our side of the road." The Primarch knew what he was speaking of as the plans to defend Cleyra had been handed down since the days of the first Primarch in 1317 who was eventually laid before Bartholomeus the I and quartered in 1320 for his insurrection against the king's authority. The first Primarch, Primarch Dysley had dissented and spoke of how the king of Burmecia had gone against Reis in accepting the Desert Star which now protected Cleyra and the tree of Reis.

Bartholomeus the III looked at the Primarch and nodded, "Yes, let us begin our preparations for defense. Our troubles have been petty up to this point, and if we do not act together, every Burmecian will not see the morrow." Freya stood and joined the other two at the table in the back to discuss their war plans, it would be a long time before they emerged.

* * *

Vivi had finally found Quina, who normally seemed very protective of him, and ran towards hir even as the soldiers continued to gain ground on him. "Qu-Quina!" the little black mage called out, startling the Qu from hir revelry.

When Quina saw the soldiers brandishing their swords and spears to kill hir child's progenitor, Quina leaped up and ran a hobble towards the little black mage to protect him. "NO ONE HURT BABY-MAKER!" the Qu shouted in hir usual manner then tackled the soldiers, slobbering them with Qu spittle.

The sight made such a scene that as Zidane was passing by with his two tour guides in hand back towards their place, he looked on the scene as if it were a normal occurrence. The two female guides looked to him for what they should make of the scene and Zidane could only shrug, "I'm as confused as you are when it comes to our Qu." So on the threesome tottered back towards their home on the north side of the settlement.

Vivi stood some ways behind the rambunctious Qu and the frightened Burmecians and almost tittered if he weren't afraid the Qu might actually eat them. His worries were for naught as the Qu eventually got up and threw the soldiers over a hedge and warned them of threatening hir child's progenitor: that included a full list of terrible foods he/she would cook them into and then not even serve to people because they'd make horrible stews and salads anyway!

When the group of Burmecians had successfully scattered, the Qu looked over at hir black mage and did a sloppy smile with hir tongue still hanging out in the front, "EVERYTHING BETTER NOW!" Quina picked up the little mage and carried him over to hir outlook, staring back out over the distant sandstorm and all the yummy-yummy beasts which flew around the big big tree.

* * *

As the strange, unwilling lovers sat and enjoyed the view around them, Zidane currently had a handful of some mighty fine tail. No, not metaphorically. I mean literally, Zidane was walking down the street with his tour guides with each hand stroking the base of their tails as he told them of his lurid tales of bravery, daring, and acting with the Tantalus Theatre Troupe. The three of them, Roxanne, Zidane, and Tricia, were all getting strange looks from the other Burmecians. Many soldiers muttered to their families about race purity, but their wives often contradicted them and said that surely the blond teenager must be part Burmecian for what other race on Gaia had a tail?

When the group had made it the girl's housing by the Council Hall, Zidane did not notice that Freya had a clear view outside from one of the Hall's many windows which had been opened after the king addressed Freya's failures. He did not notice she had a clear and somewhat surprised look as he swept one off her feet and soundly kissed her. Maybe it was Roxanne, maybe it was Tricia, did it really matter who it was? Freya felt something akin to jealousy stoke the bottoms of her heart and twist her guts as she saw Zidane turn and kiss the other like that as well before they all laughed and went inside a house next to the Council Hall.

Freya was _not_ jealous! Or...that was what she told herself as she focused once more on the plans and plainly ignored the rattle-rattle-stomping sound coming through the wall. The Primarch and the King turned to look at one another, having had their backs to the window which Freya had seen through and questioned one another what that sound was. The Primarch looked to one of his advisers and said, "Go next door to make sure that the twins are okay. I do not want my daughters to be the first casualties of defending Cleyra."

Freya jumped into the fray without hesitation and spoke lowly, "My lord, I believe I just saw your majestic daughters enter the house next door with..." she was interrupted as a loud wailing scream broke through the wall and Freya's face was the only one that became drenched in red, "...Zidane."

She spoke too little too late as the Primarch fled through the antechamber and into his house beside the Council Hall. It was not long before shouting could be heard through the wall, "What in the name of our heavenly Reis is going on in here? How dare you deflower my daughters you heathen barbarian!" Freya could only barely look to her king and saw the petty smirk on his face at the thought. She looked away and barely heard the word 'fundamentalist trash' from under his breath.

"Confound it! I do not care if you have a tail as I do! You are an unbeliever-..." there was a moment of splutter as Zidane must have answer, "How DARE YOU SAY SUCH A THING!" A quick rattle and a loud bam! could be heard against the wood as the image of Zidane swinging out a back window and into the Council Hall came into sight. He looked flushed throughout his body, covered in a slightly feathery body though he was fortunately at least wearing his underwear which had the image of a Chocobo on it. He looked mighty pleased and frustrated at the same time and began to say something only for it to die on his lips as he saw exactly where he had ended up.

"Shit..." he barely said as the king broke into an outright grin at the Primarch's misfortune. Freya locked eyes with Zidane and as much as he saw disdain in her eyes she also saw contempt in his own. For her? What did that little monkey have to hold her in contempt? She was not a whore like him! She was devoted only to _him_ and what could the monkey understand of that sort of bond?

Zidane swaggered up to the planning table and managed to have his clothes, barely, on by the time that the Primarch had come back through the antechamber and into the main hall to glare at the little monkey. "How dare you profane this place with your barbaric ways!"

The 'barbarian' could only look around as if he wasn't sure whom the Primarch was accusing. "Now excuse me, your lordi-ness," Zidane began with a tone of mock civility, "I believe it was your daring to come a-knockin' when the boat hadn't stopped yet a-rockin' and interrupt my goodies." He had almost slipped and said something about female anatomy again as he had when he first tried picking up girls at the bars in Lindblum, but he thankfully kept his overtly lewd thoughts to himself.

Before the Primarch could open his mouth to say another word the king interceded, "as disgusting as the entire display is, we will have to save our personal injuries for another time as the _Alexandrians_ are drawing nigh." Bartholomeus the III might have wanted the entertainment for his own personal sanity, but having the Primarch become unraveled would ultimately undo their plans to strike back at the real enemy.

Freya, in agreement, turned to the planning board and began to speak of possible defense posts and tuned out the Primarch's attempt to throw Zidane out a window which overlooked the ground 390 leagues below them.

Zidane also turned to the planning board when the advisers restrained their enraged Primarch so that he may calm himself. Surprisingly, as their group continued to discuss their best options, Zidane had a lot of useful input which might actually save them from certain doom. His questions of the previous battles, however, had left some room to be desired in the realm of tact. He explained that it would help lay out all the information they needed for the battle coming ahead about the black mages, about the Alexandrians, their forces, their numbers, their favorite weapons. It was a valid point, and at length the group consented to make a lengthy presentation of the past three weeks before deciding on their options.

* * *

January 12th, 1800: The Burmecian King Bartholomeus the III and his wife Queen Rhea began their trek from Burmecia to visit Alexandria and congratulate the young Princess Garnet til Alexandros of her 16th birthday and her coming into adulthood. It had been remarked amongst the Burmecian court that hopefully the young princess would soon become the ruling monarch as Queen Brahne grew more and more wretched.

January 13th, 1800: The Burmecian royal entourage clears North Gate and begins traveling along the Versian ridge road towards the Alexandrian Plateau. Bartholomeus the III remarks on the increased security along the ridge road and the entourage becomes paranoid enough to turn around and send their regards with the diplomatic Envoy to Alexandria.

January 14th, 1800: Bartholomeus the III specifically stops long enough to look over the security at North Gate on the Burmecian side and tell the guards to raise the reserves at the lower level to be safe.

January 15th, 1800: Princess Garnet's 16th birthday comes with the dual report that she has been kidnapped by the Tantalus Theatre Troupe. The reports are shocking and most of Alexandria seems to blame Regent Cid Fabool of Lindblum for organizing the event. Another smaller section of the denizens of Alexandria put the finger to Burmecia as having a part in the blame. For whatever reasons is not specifically outlined. The Envoy to Alexandria, however, is detained while the Envoy from Lindblum to Alexandria manages to escape with his life.

January 16th, 1800: Rumors of the princess' death is flung all over the continent just as Bartholomeus the III comes back to Burmecia to receive the news of the original disaster. He sends a contingent of 300 soldiers to defend North Gate as the Alexandrians seem to be stirring behind their half of the channel. There are also rumors that Regent Cid Fabool of Lindblum has directed most of its' air fleets over the Aerbs to keep an eye over the kingdom of Alexandria.

January 17th, 1800: Another rumor is spread that Princess Garnet was spotted in a small village called Dali on the Nolwich Heights at the apex between Burmecia, Lindblum, and Alexandria. News of a crash at South Gate shuts the border down between Alexandria and Lindblum hampering Lindblum's ability to see what is going on in Alexandria.

January 18th, 1800: News reaches Burmecia that their envoy to Alexandria has been found guilty of aiding the kidnappers take and murder Princess Garnet. The Burmecian royal government holds a convening of lords and unanimously, minus the absentee Crescent and Zazaire lords, declares war on Alexandria for their gross violation of the Faboolian Peace of 1770. Bartholomeus the III receives a pledge from Regent Cid Fabool of Lindblum aid as news of their envoy being captured at the Burkmea Cable Cars and executed on the spot reaches Lindblum. The Festival of the Hunt takes place in Lindblum.

January 19th, 1800: Burmecia begins the fighting by attacking the Alexandrian side of North Gate and confirm victory over the garrison. The Alexandrian Colonel is killed in the action and her sword is sent to the king as a show of loyalty. By nightfall, the black mage army has overrun the Alexandrian side of North Gate and the Burmecians retreat back to their own side of North Gate.

January 20th, 1800: As Bartholomeus the III is preparing his army to ride to North Gate and defend it, sightings of the _Red Rose_ and the Alexandrian air fleet reaches Burmecia and new defensive plans are prepared for the city. The sick, the poor, and the women are sent up into the Versian mountains to a defensive post meant to protect the defenseless during times of siege and war. The post is in poor condition, having not been maintained, but provisions are sent up as well to be rationed out as needed. By evening news of the Black Mage Army overrunning all of North Gate has reached Burmecia in time to witness the Alexandrian air fleet parachute into Burmecia with another part of the Black Mage Army. Already inside the defenses causes many casaulties.

January 21st, 1800: No news comes in from North Gate and it is assumed to be lost along with the 800 garrisoned soldiers. Burmecia's economic center is being blasted as the Burmecian Army converges and successfully destroys the black mages in that vicinity. Among the dead are counted 200 black mages and 327 Burmecian soldiers.

January 22nd, 1800: The Alexandrian main army has made it to Burmecia and begins to besiege the walls, sending the black mages in with the aid of the Alexandrian air fleet to pincer in the Burmecian Army. The walls are lost within two hours of the fighting as the Burmecians pull back to the second tier of the city. By the present numbers at nightfall it is estimated that 2,000 Burmecians were lost in fighting for the walls and the expected losses of the Alexandrians numbers around 400.

January 23rd, 1800: The Burmecian Army strikes back with lead dragon knights taking the front. They manage to retake the first tier of the city of Eternal Rain and count nearly 700 dead black mages and 150 dead Alexandrians. Amongst the Burmecian losses, however, are roughly two thirds of the dragon knight order: most of those losses being among the fresh recruits.

January 24th, 1800: Word comes in of the black mages attacking Gizamaluke's Grotto from the Burmecian side. No word on who is winning the battle.

January 25th, 1800: Right before the battle begins again for the walls of Burmecia on the first tier, word comes in of the first attack being repulsed at Gizamaluke's Grotto and that they were sending aid for the city. News also comes in from the harbor on Eesistern Coast which connects the kingdom of Burmecia to places such Esto Gaza and even Dageurrreo on the Forgotten Continent amongst the many Lindblum harbor towns on the southern half of the Mist Continent.

January 26th, 1800: The Burmecian Army repulses the Black Mage Army a second time at the walls and sends a group of some 800 subjects to the harbor town of Carthage where hopefully they could be transported to a safe location outside of the fighting. News is received the Burmecian Navy destroying much of the Alexandrian Navy off the Eleanor Coast. Renewed attacks begin on Gizamaluke's Grotto.

January 27th, 1800: A third wave is repulsed at the city of Burmecia, but the Burmecian first tier is utterly destroyed and so Bartholomeus the III moves his army back to the second tier to properly defend their home. News becomes much slower to obtain.

January 28th, 1800: Zidane's troop enters Gizamaluke's Grotto as it is falling before the the Black Mage Army. It is littered with the bodies of the 300 soldiers who were it's garrison. No news is received in Burmecia of the death of Master Gizamaluke. (Both the King and the Primarch are outraged by news of his death).

January 29th, 1800: Zidane's troop manages to make it all the way through Gizamaluke's Grotto and begins clearing the DainesHorse Basin of ragtag Alexandrian soldiers surveying the area. The attack on Burmecia increases in size and an all-out battle begins for the second and third tier.

January 30th, 1800: As Zidane's troop goes to North Gate they chance upon an Alexandrian soldier who had been eviscerated in two even halves. Her other half was found some fifty paces in another direction having the burn marks of a fire spell. Nearby a group of Burmecian soldiers could be found at an impromptu hanging gallery with a public notice that any 'demons' found raping the Alexandrian soldiers would have hot pokers shoved up their ass and their tails cut off before being hung to the death or until they starved. The sight had been disturbing to say the least, though it didn't mean much when Burmecians were a kill-on-sight target anyway.

January 31st, 1800: Zidane's troop makes it to North Gate and begins to besiege the Alexandrians there, catching them by surprise and pushing them back to the Alexandrian side of the channel. Events in Burmecia take a turn for the worse as a stray cannon shot from the Alexandrian air fleet hits the defense post up in the Versian mountains and the 5,000 denizens are killed or are expected to die of suffocation as the roof collapses.

February 1st, 1800: Zidane's troop is caught by surprise at night by the Alexandrians but a fierce battle wins a victory for the free troop. They push on and clear out the Alexandrian side of soldiers as well, sending the garrison fleeing for Alexandria or elsewhere in hopes of safety. Few of this garrison survive the harsh monsters outside the beaten paths of the ridge road, however. The Alexandrians begin a direct attack on the palace in Burmecia, hoping to overrun the government and destroy the remaining Burmecians still in charge. Another good sized chunk of the dragon knight corps is slaughtered in repulsing the Alexandrians and black mages.

February 2nd, 1800: In a desperate move the entirety of Burmecia's remaining denizens break through the northern front of the attacking army and travel as a long train towards Eldido Harbor where they hope to regroup and eventually retake the city of Burmecia. Amongst the numbers are some 10,000 Burmecians both young and old. Unfortunately, Queen Rhea is burnt to death in the royal apartments as she attempts to secure national treasures. Most of the treasures are left untouched by the invading army and the fleeing Burmecians.

February 3rd, 1800: The train is ambushed by an Alexandrian contingent of 2,000 soldiers who slaughter the rear of the train before the remaining dragon knights can repulse this attack. Among the dead are some 1,500 Burmecian subjects and 350 Alexandrian soldiers. Zidane's troop sets out from North Gate to Burmecia to save the people there after a Burmecian prisoner tells them of the horrors going on in the walls of the city of Eternal Rain.

February 4th, 1800: Zidane's troop besieges the besiegers of Burmecia and clear out most of the city of the remaining black mages and Alexandrian soldiers, including stray monsters which have come into the ruined city to feast on the innumerous corpses. Here they make a stand and almost kill Queen Brahne before they are thwarted by General Beatrix who returns to the _Red Rose_ to do something in Alexandria. By evening, Zidane's troop has managed to set out from the ruined city towards Cleyra where a soldier they have saved intends to go. By happenstance, news of disaster at Eldido Harbor turns the Burmecian train of 7,000 subjects towards Cleyra as well as their last resort.

February 5th, 1800: The Burmecian train makes it to the Vube Desert with 6,800 subjects. 200 had died the previous night of various wounds. Most of them had been much needed soldiers and the Burmecian subjects become lambs to the slaughter for the monsters hiding inside the tree of Reis. By nightfall only 4,000 are still alive. Most of the bodies are devoured by the beasts or the sand.

February 6th, 1800: Zidane's troop manages to make it to the Vube Desert and begin the long, long journey along the road to Cleyra. There have been few and far sightings of the Alexandrian Army as they are preoccupied with the destruction Eldido Harbor. The Burmecian King, Bartholomeus the III, and his loyal subjects complete their desperate journey to Cleyra and are received warmly among their brethren with whom they share news of the Alexandrian invasion which is the first time that Cleyrans have heard of any war going on down below.

February 7th, 1800: The counted survivors of the original train of some 10,000 is counted to only be some 600, including the king. News of the various Alexandrian sections of the army turning their eyes towards Cleyra becomes a rallying cry for a final showdown amongst the survivors. Cleyrans remain skeptical of their heathen brethren until the first confrontations within the tree show Cleyran just how savage the Alexandrians are murdering their kind indiscriminately. Vivi almost dies falling into a quicksand hole.

February 8th, 1800: Zidane's troop pack up from their previous camp and continue towards the higher branches of Cleyra. That night Zidane and Freya have a distinct _lack_ of a moment and hostility sets in through the night stealing blankets.

February 9th, 1800: Zidane troop make it into the Cleyra settlement and settle down for new war plans with the King of Burmecia and the Primarch of Cleyra. Zidane, Quina, and Vivi are free volunteers among the effort to save Burmecia.

* * *

The assembled group nodded as they seemed to better understand the information that they had gathered. The Alexandrians and black mages worked better as a two-pronged attack as opposed to a unified force as the battle of North Gate had spelled out, and that was why the battle of Gizamaluke's Grotto held mostly black mages while the battle of Eldido Harbor was mostly Alexandrian soldiers. The black mages were a basic type, but Vivi was not a part of them so there would be no more attempts to attack him. The Alexandrians had thus far been the fresh recruits, and it was assumed that the shock troops would be saved for fighting with Lindblum which would be more difficult for the Alexandrians.

Still, everyone had to wonder where the famed Lindblum air fleets had disappeared to. Where was Cid Fabool the IX in all of this mess?

Those things almost mattered little as Zidane and Freya seemed to be growing a little more cold towards one another. Their tails had touched once and started to curl around one another when they'd looked at each other in shock and accusation before pulling apart roughly.

It was going to be a long campaign.

**(Story)**

**AN: November 21st, 2011: And here we have another installment within 24 hours! Whose great? I'm great. Karate-chop! Anyway, have you guys been able to tell a difference in the writing style depending on who is speaking or what the narration is covering? I can't really tell myself. ...oh well. I haven't gotten any word on new coin names, and you guys might want to put up some offers soon because I filled in more with races and beasts. If I don't get any more offers the rest will probably just be eidolons, beasts, and races.**

**I am kind of swinging into doing some updates and edits for other stories like _Memoirs of a Time Traveler_ so it might take a day or two before I get back to _Tails Combined_, or as my dyslexia keeps writing it '_Tailed Combines_'.  
**

**I know nobody likes timelines, but it helps explain a lot of the storyline of what has been happening the 'background' of the story I tell you. I assure you that timelines like this will be few and far between. I pwomise... .  
**

**I know you guys are also wanting more comedy and I'm throwing it in where it is appropriate for the time period in the game, but this really is just so dark a time period that I don't have a whole lot of leeway to move around with. I mean...genocide people! You make up a joke about, or around, genocide and see how people react. I'm mostly speaking to the little miscreant who keeps messaging me about my lack of humor and my fascist tendencies. -.-**

**So, reviews are welcome. Reviews are loves. Reviews are replied to and devoured like any other commodity in our capitalistic world. ^^  
**

**Songs  
**

**Chapter 1- Lindblum Theme**

**Chapter 2- Freya's Theme**

**Chapter 3- Burmecian Kingdom, Immoral Melody, Kuja's Theme, Sword of Doubt  
**

**Chapter 4- Cleyra's Trunk, Immoral Melody**

**Chapter 5- Cleyra's Trunk, Cleyra's Settlement  
**

**Coins  
**

**.5: Avon the Playwright  
**

**1: Cid Fabool the Hunter**

**2: Barrett the Gunman**

**4: Moogle (controversy if an animalia coin or a race coin)  
**

**5: Cid the Pilot  
**

**10: Cid the Headmaster**

**15: Man (race coin)  
**

**20: Madelene the Child  
**

**25: Korki the Soldier**

**40: Chocobo (animalia coin)  
**

**50: Cloud the Avenger**

**75: Marcus the Rapscallion**

**100: Wolf (animalia coin)  
**

**150: Kain the Betrayer  
**

**200: ?**

**250: ?**

**300: ?**

**400: ****Sora the Dreamer**  


**500: Squall the Leonhearted  
**

**600: ?**

**750: Terra the Esper  
**

**1,000: Ramza the Heretic**

**1,500: Setzer the Gambler  
**

**2,000: Fang the Hunter**

**3,000: ?  
**

**5,000: ?**

**10,000: Balthier the Leading Man  
**

**25,000: ****Aerith the Ancient**  


**50,000: ?  
**

**100,000: Fran the Sky Pirate  
**

**250,000: ?**

**500,000: ?**

**1,000,000: Yuffie the Empress**


	6. Two Warring Opposites

**AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**Be warned, I may not have yet upped the rating for the story, but this particular chapter I deem rated M. I'll connect the next chapter well enough to the previous one (chapter 7 with chapter 5) so that if you feel the need, you can skip on ahead and not really miss anything. You've been warned.  
**

**Review Commentaries:**

**T-Bird: **As I'm sure you know, I just _love_ the way you let me know what you're thinking about my stories. They're insulting, and yet I keep asking you to review my stories. Why? I know most of the things you are telling me! Agh! Why are you telling me things that I know? Coin name suggestions? Please? You could sign in and leave a review too, or are you too proud to be seen reviewing my stories? Jerk...

**j.c.:** Hey! You reviewed again? AWESOME! -.- (cough) Anyway, thanks for the review! It's really nice to see reoccurring reviewers, seeing as that means, I hope, the story is good enough people keep coming back to see more of it. I'll be busting 20,000 words with this chapter so we should see a lot more hits and reviews. Speaking of which, we broke 1,000 hits last night. In response to T-Bird's participation in reviewing my stories, finally back the lazy bum, and with such amazing leaps and bounds and enthusiasm shown for this story, I am posting yet another chapter within the same week! Whaaaa? It's true! You're reading it! O.O Sorry, I'm just a little hyper for reasons both related and not related to my writing. I'm hoping the next chapter with break 30,000 words and be about the attack on Cleyra or with our favorite troop on their way to Alexandria. (I'm not finished with the chapter as I'm writing this comment to your review). However, since you have been so awesome with your reviews, I've decided to give everyone a bit of a sneak peek into what I'm drawing out for the future chapters.

_**Chapter 7**_**- Attack on Cleyra (more than likely) or journey to Alexandria? Hopes: Break 30,000 words barrier**

_**Chapter 8**_**- Journey to Alexandria on the Red Rose (actually more important in my story as it gives post-traumatic time between Zidane and Freya). Hopes: Break 35,000 words.**

_**Chapter 9**_**- Battling through Alexandria Castle (at this point I have to re-include Steiner and Garnet, so that'll be tricky and open up some possibilities there). Hopes: Break 40,000 words.**

_**Chapter 10**_**- Drawing back somewhere to Garnet and Steiner's tale, journey to South Gate. (possible. I am considering it, but as they're not the main focus it would be a rather shortened version). Hopes: Break 50,000 words.**

_**Chapter 11**_**- Garnet and Steiner's Tale, South Gate shenanigans. Hopes: Break 60,000 words.**

_**Chapter 12**_**- Garnet and Steiner's Tale, journey to Treno (or just in Treno since I'm not sure how long I want to keep on writing from their perspective). Hopes: Break 5,000 hits and 70,000 words.**

_**Chapter 13**_**- The Extraction and the merging of the two tales (this would sort of be a recap of Chapter 9 through Steiner's and Garnet's p.o.v.) Hopes: If not yet, break 70,000 words. Break 30 or so reviews.**

_**Chapter 14**_**- Pinnacle Rocks and? The General and the Burmecian (basically if there is a split between Zidane and Freya, whom I am covering the most, then this chapter will either be half with Zidane and half with Freya or just Zidane and Freya to follow).**

_**Chapter 15**_**- I really almost want to have a chapter devoted to how Beatrix and Freya manage with one another after everyone else is gone. Hopes: Break 80,000 words. Break 10,000 hits. Break 50 reviews.**

**Well, that's all for now on my hopes and tentative plot line. Now on to the real show!**

**(Story)**

_February 9th, 1800_

The celebrations of these rat-like people were not to Vivi's tastes. They were like the nobles he had seen in Treno and Alexandria: overstuffed with formality and pomp. As Vivi could see in their auras, every one of them was deathly afraid and angry, though that anger was directed towards him as he watched from his safe distance next to Quina. The Qu had taken to being his active guardian and had yet to allow him to go anywhere by himself after the fiasco when they had first come into the settlement.

These people around him were dancing and jumping with forced laughter. He could hear and _see_ the underlying tension in these survivors. He tilted his head as a couple seemed to bicker before they sighed and leaned into one another and put their noses together, then their lips. Vivi couldn't help but be curious as the couple kissed and seemed to be swept away from the rest of the merriment though they stood in the middle of the crowd.

Vivi looked up to his self-proclaimed guardian who was hopping from one foot to the other in time with the music to ask a question before the crowd parted and Vivi's questions and musings were placed on halt.

* * *

For the entire day Zidane had been bugging the hell out of her. Whenever she went to another part of the settlement with him, her king, and the Primarch to inspect how they should proceed with what they had Zidane would flirt with every single tail that walked his way; he flirted with a soldier's wife while her kids held onto her skirts and cried about their 'papa' who apparently had not made it in the long journey from Burmecia to Cleyra. His behavior was out of control and entirely unacceptable.

What did it matter if his flirting seemed to cheer the poor, distressed mother? Her husband was only a few days dead and Reis might not even have ordained a beast on the rolling DainesHorse Basin to devour his worldly body. It was unacceptable on both Zidane's and the mother's part precisely because of that reason; because it violated tradition.

As Freya had not been in the devastating Battle for Burmecia, the city of Eternal Rain, she did not carry the same notion of her king's disavowal of traditional battle with the Alexandrians. Freya desired to line up their forces along the most easily defended points and check points on the road to Cleyra and within the settlement itself. Her plan involved the attrition measures of a last-stand defense in the hopes that Regent Cid Fabool IX would come to their aid in some manner while they made their stand. It had rescued King Ypress the IV of Burmecia during the 5th Lindblum War of 1303-1306 after the passing of King Ypress the II in 1300 had raised questions of Burmecian stability.

The Primarch had agreed with her measures and suggested that the dancers of Cleyra use their magical abilities to heal and help defend the soldiers in their check points.

There was dissent within the realm, however, as her king had violently disagreed with the traditional warfare of old. The Battle for Burmecia had been a series of trials and errors, and eventually Bartholomeus the III had adapted well enough to the Alexandrian style of warfare that the last tier, with the royal palace, had been the most difficult and costly for the Alexandrians to take. The streets and ruined homes of Burmecia were littered with the dead bodies of their enemies for the efforts that they had taken to destroy Burmecia and the denizens therein.

Zidane agreed with her king on this issue and so the four most influential men, and lady, of the forces opposing Alexandria in this genocide remained evenly divided.

What did Zidane know? Why had her king forsaken her after he had forgiven her of her transgressions only to turn and give favor to an outsider? The thought rankled the Burmecian dragon knight, one of the last of her kind, as she prepared for the celebration of Reis that night.

* * *

Zidane was unsure what it was that he had done, but the tailed she-demon had been breathing down his neck like a woman scorned. He wasn't sure what he had done to upset her so badly this time, but frankly it was beginning to rile him up. He hadn't seen her this disturbed since a year after they met, gotten plastered, and woke up the next day in the same bed: nakedly sprawled across one another.

Hell, he'd spent most of his time here in Cleyra trying to forget how she had forcefully disentangled their tails last night. Sure he might have gone a little overboard with those twins, but they had asked him to show them what a _half-breed_ was like, whatever that was. All he knew was that the king thought he was awesome, considering the way the guy kept helping him out and defending him from the Primrose, or whatever he was called. How was he supposed to know that the fundamentalists here were so repressed they wanted to screw him with their own twin sister and do..._that_ with him.

Zidane couldn't hold back the shudder that took over his body, and he soon regretted it as he heard Freya begin to hiss at him in annoyance. Whatever was wrong with that woman needed to be straightened out, and he was about to do it to!

Despite the festivities going on around him, Zidane began to part the crowd as he stalked towards that...that...that damned rat-face who kept hissing at him whenever he tried to do his own thing. As he got within ten feet of the woman she turned, as if sensing him approaching her and she too began to force the crowd aside as she stalked towards him. They would clash, and the crowd could sense it.

The music of the harps continued on as their musicians had long since lost themselves to the thrum of their strings and pipes. However, the once formal and 'pompous', as Vivi described it, attitude of the crowd disappeared as the entirety of almost 1,000 pairs of eyes looked on at the emerging fight. The Primarch looked over at the heathen King and saw the man also looking back at them. Their disagreement over the defenses would be won by their younger, more fired and alive, defenders. The aging men like the Primarch and the King were past the time of voracious words and fiery oratory, their words were that of age, patience, wisdom, and experience. Beneath them, within the crowd, their champions would decide the course that Burmecians took in the Battle for Cleyra.

"What is your problem?" came the echo of Zidane's vehement question through the melody of the music. It was heard by all, but the postures of the two combatants did not shift with the public knowledge of their dispute.

Freya towered over the little _half-breed_ and sneered, "You are too young to decide the fate of a people not your own." Her first attack was quick and only one of the many things she had been listing in her mind.

The retort which came, however, surprised her and the crowd around them, "In case you haven't noticed your majestic pain-in-the-ass, most of 'your' people think I'm one of them because of this tail." Zidane's tail, as if to say hi to everyone, flared up and waved back and forth before falling again.

Freya's sneer only darkened, "A _half-breed_ has never before done any great service for Burmecia or Reis." Let the little monkey weasel out of a traditional-religious attack.

"Is that because we aren't any good, or is it because you've never allowed us to _be!_" Zidane's voice snapped on that word and continued accusing her entire traditional order, "of any use to Burmecia?"

"It is the will of Reis," Freya responded, as had been the answer handed down to her from the very order of Reis in her own stumbling questions while growing up, and that was what she saw before her: a child that needed to grow up.

"That's bullshit and you know it! So what if Rayce is a real god? They've certainly done a lot for the tens of thousands of dead rat-folk lying back in Burmecia, haven't they?" Zidane's accusation and question stung at Freya's mind and she responded as best she knew how; she lashed out.

_SMACK!_

The echoing cry of that sound carried loud enough that even the musicians now stopped their beautiful courtly music to listen to the argument riveting between their community.

Zidane's face held a deep imprint of her clawed hand that burned a bright red, though it was slowly deepening in color as he slipped into shock at being hit by one of his oldest friends.

"What would you know, womanizer? All you do in Lindblum is go the bar and pick up stupid girls with big breasts. When that is not enough for your appetites you defame your very land by kidnapping a princess and running thousands of leagues away from your home!" Freya was all but shouting at this point.

"I spent weeks on end looking for something better in this world while you just dallied around with empty-headed whores!" Freya's below-the-belt insult was too much for Zidane to bear and so he broke his silence with words he knew would devastate her.

"You mean you spent your days looking for your dumbass not-lover Fratley because he left your ass and gave you a pretty ribbon in return!" Freya stopped cold at the mentioning of _him_, but Zidane didn't give her the time to find her voice again before he kept going. "I didn't have to come save your people! I didn't have to risk dying a hundred different times just to save your backwards kingdom! I didn't have to take time away trying to find Garnet just to save your skinny tail! But you don't even have the decency to thank me for it. 'Hey Zidane, thanks for coming thousands of leagues away from what you were doing to make sure that my home is okay after I ran away from it like my ex-not-lover.'" Zidane could see blotches appearing beneath Freya's light fur as she snarled at him and slapped him again across the other cheek, but Zidane did not budge from his position, intent on proving her wrong and show her just how he was as in as much pain as she.

"You're afraid. I get that. You're afraid that everything you knew will be swept away in these sands or the wind, or hell...I dunno, the branches or something! But you're more worried of how you'll appear to your stupid runaway would-be lover! But what the fuck do I care? It only hurts when I kiss you, or when our tails wrap around each other while we're walking. It only hurts that you ignore our freaky-ass night back in Lindblum a couple of years ago! And yeah, so what if I get around? You're obviously interested at your convenience!" Zidane felt the wind needed to return to his lungs as he looked up into Freya's distraught and enraged eyes.

"You, little monkey boy, are the most insulting thing the House of Crescent has ever been forced to lay eyes upon. The winds themselves must feel a need to be cleansed when you stand within their path. Your ancestors must equally feel or be your shame," Freya counted the insulting rites, a Burmecian ritual to challenge someone to a duel.

Before she could finish the five to eighteen extensive insults, the King stood and bellowed an aged but powerful, "QUIET!"

And everyone was silenced before their king. Even the Cleyrans looked up in awe and silence upon a man who claimed lordship over them. "We are in a time of great despair," Bartholomeus the III was annoyed but did not let it come through in his oratory. The youth had been meant to make their argument for them, but now it was left to older and wiser hands: another failure he would lay at the feet of his second highest dragon knight. "North Gate is gone. Gizamaluke's Grotto is gone. Eldido Harbor is gone." The king's voice hitched but he kept going as if he hadn't, "_Burmecia_ is gone."

The wayward souls who stood below him were overwhelmed with the idea of their entire kingdom being wiped out in this war. "Our friends, our family, our homes and our very sense of normalcy have been grievously robbed from our hands as if there were no such things as honor, chivalry, or loyalty and honesty! In these troubled times we may want to find some sense of normalcy by keeping our ways as traditional as possible, but we cannot allow the lessons we have learned in the battles of North Gate, Gizamaluke's Grotto, Eldido Harbor or Burmecia be lost in our drunken revelry to recapture our past. If we remain groggy-eyed and perplexed searching through the past _we will have NO FUTURE!_" Bartholomeus roared the end of his speech and quietly sat down, gesturing towards Zidane to continue where he had left off.

All eyes moved from the honored and prestigious form of their king to the scruffy and slapped-red-in-the-face Zidane with his wide hips and his burly tail. Zidane bent to the side a little and scratched the back of his head, "That's..." he began slowly as if trying to catch his thoughts, "that's why we have to keep our traditions where it doesn't hurt us. We can't fight the Alexandrian Army with 17th century battle formations and ideas. We have to implement the lessons we have learned, and continue winning until the Alexandrians are driven from Burmecia back into the misbegotten land!"

Zidane felt awed that he'd used a word like 'misbegotten' and chalked it up to Vivi's influence. Instead, he turned to look at Freya and continued as if only speaking to her, "Many mistakes have been made in the past, but..." he seemed to be searching her eyes for something, "but hopefully there will be a future in which to make mistakes as well."

Freya felt her face give a slight burn, and then she felt the slight tingle in her gut. It was then, with the crowd of Burmecians looking on that Freya knew what she was feeling: what she had been feeling since some time ago back in Lindblum. She was in love. Not only was she in love, which she already knew, but she was in love with the a completely different person than she thought she was.

Before Zidane could act on what he saw in Freya's eyes she turned away from on the balls of her elongated feet and walked back to their hotel room for the night.

Though the crowd had come together in their understanding, the young defenders of the two different sides had not, and that was burning in Zidane's mind as tried to return to the festivities with the same happy mindset of before.

By the end of the celebration of Reis Zidane was only in a worse mood than before. However, Vivi and Quina seemed to have hit it off really well considering how close they were when Quina carried Vivi back to their room before the end of the celebration.

Zidane returned to his room with Freya alone.

* * *

Freya was pacing the floor of their room in thought. For once she had taken the time to remove many of the vestiges of her royal fealty and was clad only in her undergarments: a silken sleeve dress which she had not worn since before the Festival of the Hunt. In fact, it was probably around the time Zidane had visited before his 'ultra big, super secret mission to Alexandria'. They had had a bit of an interesting night. He'd stolen some of the hardest liquor that Baku kept in his hideout, and then he proceeded to explain that he could die on this journey so they should celebrate and be happy. She hadn't taken his words seriously. The last time he had said something like that, it had been a year after they met each other. That night had ended in wild drunken sex, and then he was in the bar picking up whores for the next week. She's nearly killed him.

Now as she saw herself in the full-length mirror she could feel herself age before her eyes: old, alone, scarred, and yet still loyal, if a failure, to her king and cause. It was clear to her that Sir-..._he_ had possibly long since died, and there was a woman in her lurking which latched onto Zidane as a means of recovering from that heartache. Yet, there was also a knight within her that demanded she mourn her lost love. A stray philosopher within her thoughts, an avatar trying to bridge the gap between her woman-side and her knight-side, tried rationalizing that Zidane was someone whom she clearly wanted to be with if _he_ had been gone for so long.

_That_ was crazy talk though, and Freya refused to entertain the thought. The idea of her with that monkey made her fur shiver as it was. It made her guts knot up, and it even made her break out in a sweat. That time that they had... and it was... why could she not focus?

A clawed hand racked itself against the wall, fully intent on breaking the mirror in a follow-up if it were not for the the creak of the floor behind her.

Acting on instinct, Freya turned and jumped onto the intruder, bearing her teeth and ready to tear their throat out!

Zidane held up his hands in surrender, "I give...I give. I just want to sleep..." his voice morose and disheartened. He did not squirm beneath her like he normally would, fighting for dominance over the much taller dragon knight. Freya felt something inside her worry over his reaction to her jumping him, and she bitterly crushed it.

Holding herself there longer than necessary, Freya was about to get up when Zidane spoke up.

"Freya?" His voice small, just like a little mouse: a scared, tired, and young mouse.

She looked down at him to spare him the moment he was asking for of her. It didn't take her long to see what was in his eyes. Before she could recoil and hiss at him, the idiot monkey-boy had planted his lips on her and whispered words of consolation.

Freya felt three sets of eyes within her mindscape turn to the vision before them of Zidane softly stroking and kissing her. Hugging her and trying to console her after their fight. Nearly all of those avatar representations of herself were forced into the shadow as a bestial Freya awakened and hissed at him violently.

She slammed his _huggin__g _hands onto the floor above his head. She pressed a knee dangerously high between his _rubbing_ legs. Her lips curled back and showed of her sharpened fangs to his _googly _eyes. And then...

She pounced. Already having him stuck beneath her, Freya took just a second to look into his eyes before she snapped forward and bit him on the side of his neck, growling threateningly and increasing the pressure as if to rip his throat out.

Zidane's throat coughed and he could feel himself holed up beneath her. He tried moving, even just a little, and the pressure on his neck increased. He tried speaking, just a sound, and she increased the pressure, drawing blood from his neck. Her domination over him and his helplessness caused him to whimper, a sign of weakness and servitude to her bestial mind. When she was satisfied and let up even a little, Zidane pushed with his tail and had flipped their position. He couldn't enjoy the spot for long as Freya pushed them back over, before he pushed himself back atop of her. It was a struggle for dominance and it irked the bestial side of Freya's mind to the core, that a submissive bitch in her pack would fight back and deceive her.

Claws and bites tore at one another till Zidane tripped her up and had he pressed belly first into the ground. From there a more animalistic side of himself violently craned down and bit into her shoulder viciously, as if marking her himself.

What came as unexpected was the flood between them; their bodies seemed to melt into one another and a divine wind seemed to sweep around them in a curl.

Freya recognized the presence of Reis, her dragon goddess, but Zidane did not care for the foreign goddess and only kept himself dominant as Freya stilled herself. They lay as such for a time before time seemed to continue forward and Freya flipped him off of her and they both lay sprawled on the floor breathing heavily.

Without a doubt, Freya knew the significance behind the wind, and it sent chills into her bones. They had _marked_ each other as if they had wed before the alter of Reis and were celebrating the union. Indeed, they had exchanged words before a statue of Reis, the Primarch, the King, and hundreds of witnesses. Then they had _marked_ each other! How could she have been so stupid!

Zidane almost said something before she cut him off with a sob. A real sob. Her body shook and she cried to herself that she was in a union with someone as loathable as the monkey-boy! When Zidane tried to speak again she stood up and hit him. His head bounced back against the wood and he did not stir again for the rest of the night as Freya continued to cry to herself and lament her inability to _ever_ reach _him_ now.

Eventually she too began to sleep, and the two of them were mightily unprepared for the events to come the next day.

**(Story)**

**AN: November 24th, 2011: Happy Thanksgiving! I started working on this chapter too late into the night to finish before the official beginning of Thanksgiving Day, but what the heck, I have a few more hours before daylight anyway. (And then I fell asleep only to wake up with my head on the keyboard and some 300,000 's' characters after that. sigh...) I hope you guys are really enjoying ****_Tails Combined_****, and find the strokes of life I'm trying to give their (Zidane and Freya mostly) character.  
**

**Why is no one suggesting names for these coins? I try to be nice, but I guess I'll just fill in the rest by the next chapter if I don't get any other suggestions. I'm also open to suggestions on good Final Fantasy IX music to listen to while reading the attack on Cleyra.**

**I'm also working on making the standardized edits to ****_Stairs to Heaven_****, and ****_To Live a Better Day_****. If you guys are interested in any of my other stories, I would suggest something like ****_Gil by the Day_**** if you're interested in another Final Fantasy IX story or ****_Goodnight_**** if you want a quirky Naruto story. I'd also suggest something along the lines of ****_Haremization_****, the natural process of writing fanfiction: the desire of wanting to haremize the poor, mistreated characters.**

**Anyway, what did you guys think? Shoot me a review, and I will continue to care! Wait...I mean...  
**

**Songs**

**Chapter 1- Lindblum Theme**

**Chapter 2- Freya's Theme**

**Chapter 3- Burmecian Kingdom, Immoral Melody, Kuja's Theme, Sword of Doubt**

**Chapter 4- Cleyra's Trunk, Immoral Melody**

**Chapter 5- Cleyra's Trunk, Cleyra's Settlement**

**Chapter 6- Cleyra's Settlement, Eternal Harvest**

**Coins**

**.5: Avon the Playwright**

**1: Cid Fabool the Hunter**

**2: Barrett the Gunman**

**4: Moogle (controversy if an animalia coin or a race coin)**

**5: Cid the Pilot**

**10: Cid the Headmaster**

**15: Man (race coin)**

**20: Madelene the Child**

**25: Korki the Soldier**

**40: Chocobo (animalia coin)**

**50: Cloud the Avenger**

**75: Marcus the Rapscallion**

**100: Wolf (animalia coin)**

**150: Kain the Betrayer**

**200: ?**

**250: ?**

**300: ?**

**400: Sora the Dreamer**

**500: Squall the Leonhearted**

**600: ?**

**750: Terra the Esper**

**1,000: Ramza the Heretic**

**1,500: Setzer the Gambler**

**2,000: Fang the Hunter**

**3,000: ?**

**5,000: ?**

**10,000: Balthier the Leading Man**

**25,000: Aerith the Ancient**

**50,000: ?**

**100,000: Fran the Sky Pirate**

**250,000: ?**

**500,000: ?**

**1,000,000: Yuffie the Empress**


	7. The Morning After

**AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**Review Commentaries:**

**Myshu: **You have very valid points. The coins are rather insignificant and I might be convinced to confess that the word count was part of their creator. . (cough) Anyway, I cannot make any promises with the length of my author's notes at the end of the chapters. I tend to try and address as many issues as I can or at least document what was guiding my thoughts at the time to make it easier to recall what I intended with chapters (in case I slow down for a lengthy period of time).

I wouldn't say that Bartholomeus is a jerk, _per se_, but he is in a rather foul mood all of the time. His entire kingdom is in ruins and his people of some 80,000 is down to 1,000. That's a mortality rate of 98.75 percent. That's worse than the Black Death of 1348 or Justinian's Plague of 540. It's a higher mortality rate than even the Spanish Flu of 1918 (to make a complete comparison between ancient, medieval, and modern plague).

I read over chapter 6 again and noticed a few errors I had accidentally inserted, like the death of Bartholomeus the I in 1300 when I already said he was alive as late as 1320 or saying 'dual' instead of 'duel'. I imagined the insulting ritual as a means of preparing to duel another person by grossly attacking their honor and requiring them to save face by declaring a duel. As the standard rules for duels existed as late as 1800 in the real world, the challenged in a duel gets choice of weapon and first shot. Look up famous American duels of the Early Republic period and the tales will fascinate.

**(Story)**

_February 10th, 1800_

Freya's thoughts were so scattered as she gave a low moan of contentment and nuzzled into her warm bed. Her tail had that gentle pressure which meant it had found something to find its' own resting place for the night, and that always put the female Burmecian in a good mood.

The distant sound of the roaring wind of the divine wind of Reis, known as the Kamikaze to the Cleyrans was a pleasant moan which the past week had allowed her to become used to. It felt familiar by now though it was not the same as the constant pitter-pat of the rain back home.

_ Home_... The thought of that ruined lake of rubble and blood made Freya frown for a moment before she pushed the thought aside in her morning wake-up process. She was clearly just in her sleeve, so it must be a time to relax for once. She couldn't remember the last time she had relaxed and the opportunity seemed to be easing the ache in her very bones.

Other senses slowly flooded into her awareness. There was the warmth of her bed. There was the pressure on her back. There was that steady hum-hum snore of Zidane's, the little monkey-boy who she absolutely had the hots for...

Freya grunted and rid herself of the thought, unwilling to let it ruin her morning of peace and relaxation. What did it matter that the warmth of her bed meant that she'd had a partner in her bed the previous night? What did it matter if the pressure on her back was that distinct light, feathery fur which covered Zidane's torso? What did it matter that the thick, bushy thing wrapped around her tail kept stroking up to the base of her tail and rubbing against things which had remained dormant since the last time she'd had sex?

Freya gave a low growl as she felt her peace and relaxation breaking. She almost gave in to the temptation to open her eyes and begin the strangling of her bedmate, but the soft hum-hum of Zidane's slight snoring kept her at bay. How could she be upset when this is where she wan-...

Freya forcefully shoved the thought aside and screwed her eyes shut. She would think of the warmth coming from her other side: the warmth which could come from laying in the sunlight. Burmecia had been blessed with so few days to bask in the sunlight that she now felt oddly uncomfortable without the damp of her rain but still eased by the joviality which the sunlight seemed to exude.

Rain and dampness seemed so natural and comforting to her that the warm arid air that wafted in through the window made her feel even more uncomfortable. How was she to rest and relax, since if she was in her sleeve then she must clearly need to relax, when the entire world around her was driving her insane!

Hum-hum...hum-hum...hum-hum

Zidane, what a pest. He had had the gall to argue with her in front of her own people. Her people! Zidane was not a Burmecian, or a half-Burmecian. He did not share the same bone structure or understanding of dragons. His limbs were not elongated. He had no claws. He had no keen sense of smell. Obviously he had no sense of smell at all because he smelled deeply of musk. He had...a tail.

Freya was stumped on this point. Zidane had a tail. Maybe he was part Hume? Maybe a distant ancestor had been a Burmecian and whatever blood it took for a tail had manifested in Zidane. But then why the soft-feathery fur? Burmecians were _rat-like_, not _avian-like_. Nobody did tragedies called _I Want to be Your Rat-Person_. Lord Avon had more taste than that.

Freya had heard all the reasons why Burmecians, even esteemed dragon knights, were not allowed to witness the play in the Treno Theatre of the Elite Brethren. The very idea behind those reasons was how she had ended up at the top of a really big tree where there was no water, no clouds, stupid zealots, and a dumb 'hum-hum' snore as Zidane felt up her...

* * *

Viva looked at the door leading to big brother Zidane's room when a loud crash sounded from behind its' wooden frame. The crash was followed by a low sound, too low for his ears to catch.

The little black mage twisted his hat in his anxiety as the words, "Tribal I swear to Reis that I will cut that...now and then... twist it until it cracks op-...stupid mothe-...I HATE YOU!"

Then the inn was quiet once more, though none dared brave the wrath of an angry Freya Crescent. Vivi pretended to take a drag off of the burning branch in his hand and shook his little head, "tch...children."

* * *

Zidane looked up at the demonic face of one pissed off Freya Crescent. Just moments ago he'd been dreaming this really weird dream where he, Dagger, Rusty, and Vivi were escaping on the cargo ship again and when it was his turn to get on to the ladder he looked right up into Freya's skirt and suddenly just started molesting her. Then his dream had ended up at her apartment in Lindblum where they had romped that one night a few years ago. That was kinky and he so wanted to ask if Freya was into candle wax.

On instinct alone Zidane rolled away from another one of the demonic Freya's assaults. "I didn't mean to feel your sheef thingy!" Really, he had. In the dream he had been having she was covered in whip cream and he just wanted to grab a handful and eat it.

"What makes you think I'll ever forgive you?" Freya screamed as she jumped at him once more, trying to capture him and..and...she'd figure that out when got a hold of that pesky little...little...pesk! With another scream of indignation and frustration Freya leaped clear across the room towards Zidane. It was not to be her day.

Zidane tripped backward on his attempt to escape, opening the window behind him. Freya's claws sunk into his night shirt and hiked the thing well above his waist as they both fell out the window down a few feet into the middle of the market space.

What before had been a hurry of renewed economics in the dusty, lazy town of Cleyra was now the epicenter of a huge shouting match between two of their naked leaders.

Freya took a tight hold of Zidane's nightshirt and proceeded to bash him against the ground, "What. In. The. Name. Of. Reis. Did. You. Do. To. Me?" Zidane felt a concussion coming on at this rate and tried to ease himself out of her grip.

"I didn't do anything!" He denied.

"LIAR!" She screamed followed by a long trailing hiss of a promised retribution if he didn't confess.

"I swear I didn't do anything last night! You came on to me! That's why we bit each other remember?" His tired confession caused a rippling gasp to emerge from the entire crowd surrounding the pair who only just now noticed their presence. Freya and Zidane looked up at the crowd and then at their own very naked state and how it must appear to the crowd of what they were talking about. Freya stood and held Zidane's form in front of her as she climbed back in to their room before shutting the door behind her and Zidane outside.

As woozy as Zidane was all he could stand to do is look at the nearest person and shrug, "I don't know what happened last night after she kicked me in the face." Then he fell over and gave the crowd a spectacular view up his night shirt.

* * *

Quina waddled away from the crowd in confusion. Why did tall rat lady and little monkey man bite each other? Is that was he/she was supposed to have done to Vivi? It explained so much that the Qu shouted in joy, "QUINA MAKE YUMMY-YUMMY MATE-MATE FOOD!" much to the consternation of the people around hir.

The Burmecian children of that generation have never been the same.

**(Story)**

**AN: December 8th, 2011: Hey guys. I'm sorry this has taken so long for to publish. I wanted it to be longer but I'm in the process of finishing up the last of my current semester so I'm really busy. I've produced this small thing in the meantime so I hope you can enjoy some of its' humor while I go back to editing papers. I've also been doing a lot of work for my Mogul Brianback Series and _A Tale of History_ which has diverged a lot of my creative talents elsewhere as well. That, in itself, has been a difficult task.  
**

**Still, I hope you enjoyed the story! I really wish you will review and make me very happy (all that requires _is_ the act of reviewing).**

**Songs**

**Chapter 1- Lindblum Theme**

**Chapter 2- Freya's Theme**

**Chapter 3- Burmecian Kingdom, Immoral Melody, Kuja's Theme, Sword of Doubt**

**Chapter 4- Cleyra's Trunk, Immoral Melody**

**Chapter 5- Cleyra's Trunk, Cleyra's Settlement**

**Chapter 6- Cleyra's Settlement, Eternal Harvest**

**Chapter 7- Cleyra's Settlement**


	8. Eternal Harvest

**AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**Review Commentaries:**

**Myshu: **Vivi and Quina will have a much larger part in this particular chapter and some of their own following chapters, but they're intended to be a smaller part of the story than Zidane and Freya. Of course, the dynamics of who I'm focusing should equal out a little when we hook back up with Rusty and Dagger. I don't think I really need to say how much I appreciate your reviews so far since they help me synthesize my own thought on the matter.

**MGF: **I will eventually try to do something with the coins and make some sort of style so people do not get too confused by it, but part of my hopes in looking over my notes for it is really to inspire a standard edifice for this fandom like in what you see in the pairing names for Golden Sun where the pairing names are dictated by the elements of the two involved: water and earth being the Mud shipping for example. However, as Myshu was clear on, it's not exactly required, and my requests for names along with the reposting was a rather sly, if busted, way of extending the word count.

However! I would like to deeply thank you for your review! It certainly means a lot to me to see new people reading my fanfic, and while I cannot say expect regular updates, expect at least one per month as the average.

**Before you begin, let me make my song recommendation now. Main Theme ( and Getting Away with Murder (by Papa Roach). Trust me, they're both a stimulant during the correct portions.**

**(Story)**

_February 10th, 1800_

Now it came time for all of their hard planning to actually pay off. They had worked hard to prepare the way for the Alexandrians to drive in through the main road and be slaughtered. If they could only defend as long as needed for the Lindblumian Air Fleet to arrive then their lives could be salvaged from this incessant carnage. They were a people on the verge of death, and they would not go quietly into the night!

The long, winding road which Zidane and his party had traveled not but a couple of days ago was not fraught with the war machines of the Burmecian army. Each bend and curve was built to tear holes in the minds of the invasion force _'would it be now'_, _'what is beyond this curve?'_, _'how many screams did I just hear?'_. It was not for any reason of luck the Burmecians had continued to survive with the larger Alexandrians and Lindblumese surrounding them.

That day had begun just like any other it would seem. Freya and Zidane had had another one of their awkward 'morning-after' disputes and Quina had shouted something which disturbed people to their cores if they understood what was being said beyond the slobber-sloober-gook of the intonation.

However, it had not entirely been a common experience for everyone. Vivi had pretended to smoke a branch as if he were some high-born elitist in Treno and Quina had smacked him upside his head thought that could have been an accident. After that odd event though the strange couple had gone back to the observatory and shared a strange experience.

As the two sat there in contented silence as the war sounds were made in the town square as their collected band of misfits and the entire Burmecian population prepared for the siege. Now was a time to be collected on the things which had made their ragtag group so special; for it was not often, if it had ever happened, that a group of a Burmecian, a Black Mage, a Qu, and an unknown gathered together and personally got involved in a war of genocide in the entire history of the Mist continent.

Sure, there was evidence of a civilization on the continent from nearly 8,000 years ago, but that evidence had always remained inconclusive. Besides, few people believed in the scientific articles printed by Doctor Tot anymore after the lurid tale of his mother in the previous century. How can you trust the intelligent implications of a man who might have been born of a mist monster? Still...the evidence was there if people could be bothered to look for it.

* * *

In the here and now, however, Vivi sat quietly on Quina's lap and was content to look out over the horizon into the sandstorm.

The sight of the two was perhaps more than most people could stomach: the rather oddball pair. Yet in times such as these when the order of the world seemed on the verge of collapse it only seemed right to give each man his quarter of the world before he passed on. Now that the northwestern corner of the misty continent was sprayed in the paint of blood. Not a monster had gone hungry the past fortnight in the ashes of the Burmecian Kingdom, and in such a fray how could any of them deny a small moment of peace to one sensible black mage they had yet seen?

And so the two sat there in comfortable silence. The Qu and the Black Mage. They might not be as strong as Zidane the Halfling or Freya the Dragoness, but they were the companions, the sidekicks if you will, to their heroes. They would become the stuff of legends, and so the Burmecians and Cleyrans thought that the look of the oddly misshaped pair saw out beyond the sandstorm into the very bloody mists of time.

When your very world is crumbling around you, how can you take away the last rays of hope from a discarded race?

* * *

In the middle of the town square Zidane and Freya barked orders at the assembling Burmecians. Well, Freya acted the part of a true general before the battle while Zidane made adjustments to smaller groups. They were the field commanders for this operation of defense, but right now was possibly the worst time for them to even look at one another.

With a heavy atmosphere of impending death to the last child, the once vibrant and colorful square in the center of the town had become a deluded mess of armor and steel. It was a shame that Reis had blessed them years before as the mightiest power amongst the Mist kingdoms only to fall on such hard times with the advent of the airship. The previous 70 or so years had been a tumultuous time for their people.

Yet here their bodies shuffled into order once more. For they would not go quietly into the night. They would stand to the last man if need be, and then the last woman; and, as sad a sight as it might make, to the last war-torn child in the puddle of his parents' blood as he tried to defend himself from the Alexandrian menace.

Right now though the square was only filled with the pre-battle sounds of war: shuffling iron, light conversation, and a somber mood in the air which weighed heavily on their very souls. Amongst the rest of the crowd only Quina and Viva could not seem to feel the ground shaking vibe at the spine of their tail as the nature of Fate in the air told them of their impending deaths.

As the squads melted together in full array before the pedestal held by the King and the Primarch, even the birds seemed to stop and inspect the somber gathering of their fellow inhabitants.

When the last man had positioned himself into the square formation before the high pedestal, it was a spectacle to behold! 1,389 men in full battle armor standing with banners flying of Cleyra, of Burmecia, and even an odd red North Gate flag waving in the air despite the charred edges. The noble families of Yallow, of Crescent, of Merigold, of Hifen, of Gizan, and of Erock lined the commanders box at the head of each squad. The only noble family missing was that of Zazaire, but then again it was unlikely that the missing Dragon Knight Fratley of the Noble House of Zazaire would ever be returning after his five year absence, genocide or not.

Beyond the square of Burmecian iron and cloth were the houses of the squares lined with the women and children of the husbands who would soon be giving their lives to give precious hours and minutes to the ones they loved. The women could not help but cry as the children too young to know better marveled at the sight in such awed tones. The children old enough to understand desperately wanted to gather steel in hand or nock back a shaft to kill a few Alexandrians before they were killed themselves.

Suppressing this atmosphere were the figures standing on the stairs leading down into the square. Standing at the bottom were Quina, Vivi, and one of the last remaining dragon knights who had defended Burmecia: his name was Ypres Merigold.

A few stairs above them stood the dominating figures of Freya and Zidane, though they were too miffed or embarrassed to look at one another. Now was not the time for a personal squabble. It was life or death, and they could very well die.

And above them stood the uniting figures in this dual venture: King Bartholomeus the III and Primarch Hugo the IX. The King stood in his own royal armor, a spectacular gold hauberk with chain mail falling down to his calves in what had been considered a royal skirt a century or two ago. The metal epaulets which pointed at the end stood out a few inches from the end of his shoulders.

The Primarch on the other hand had his traditional white robe embroidered with the symbols of his predecessors who had managed the Celyran settlement since its' inception. What made the man stand out was his ancient whiskers which had grown to epic proportion over the years. It was a point he had taken some pride in as a youth and would be immortalized for in his successors as his own symbol. Hugo the Long Whiskered, it still tickled a secular fancy he repressed.

As these two imposing figures stood at the top of the stairs it became a moment which would live in their memory till the end of their time, whether it was short or prolonged.

"My brothers!" called the primarch, "the time has come for us to let go of old wounds! We have nothing to gain by our internal conflict when a greater heathen stands at our very doorstep with the plans to rob our own children of their very breath! Dear Reis in the mountains above our own humble abode! We beg your pardon as we fight for our lives! We beg for your mercy when we are to approach your being! And we beg for your help as we, your loyal subjects, gather for a terrible ordeal!"

The Primarch's words seemed to cause a ripple in parts of the crowd before him, especially from the Cleyrans who looked upon their beloved leader as if he too would die with them. The ripple of fresh crying dampened the already dense ambiance of the square.

Now the King took his turn to speak and his voice thundered where the Primarch had seemed like Reis' lightening. "NOW!" he began with a screaming cry which might as well originate in his continued despair over the loss of his wife. "Now is the time of our trial! Be this the end of our days or the very beginning is not an issue to take at hand! What remains at issue is our very survival," his voice cracked like a thundering whip on the stress words to electrify his audience, "in which our days will be determined by our upcoming actions! Live or die," he bellowed, fire in his eyes, "we will kill every last Alexandrian we come across!"

As the crowd stirred with a renewed sense of burning hatred after the things that they had seen or heard about, the Burmecian survivors gave their rallying cry in cheer with the stir of their king. Hurrah! Hurrah! HURRAH!

With the crowd at a fever pitch, the Primarch looked newly upon his gather audience and felt the heathen ways of the king even grip his puritan Cleyrans. So he interjected himself at this point to avoid a break of the traditions. "In order to revive our faith in Reis, and the ancient magics which protect this land we shall now perform the traditional dance." He seemed to consider only a moment before looking down at Freya, "as one of our dancers has been injured from," his eyes ticked as he pointedly refused to look at Zidane, "occupational hazards, I ask that the most noble Sir Freya Crescent help lead my daughter Satire in this time-honored traditon."

Freya felt herself tick at the thought of exactly what 'occupational hazard' that Zidane had inflicted onto the other daughter before the Primarch had gone to investigate. Yet she avoided the dishonorable expression of such an ill feeling and instead bowed graciously, "I would be most honored Lord Primarch." She made sure to turn and bow even lower to her king, "provided that my lord and protector has no objections." It was a deferrential manner which befitted the mood of the gathering, but it was no less a direct insult towards the Primarch as she continued to show that her highest authority was the state and not the church.

* * *

Meanwhile, as Freya and the other dancers began to arrange themselves in the square and as the harp player tested the strings to make sure they were in tune, Zidane was zoned away in his own little world considering the events which had thus far occured. _"How am I s'pposed to take it? I mean, she was like all over me and woah! one day and then back ta hittin' me the next. I simply don't understand this girl..."_

And so his thoughts began to stay, _"Heck, I betcha that Dagger would be all over me like that! With 'oh Zidane-y-...poo, what big muscles you have!' And then I could totally swoop in and feel up that soft ass of hers again. It was amazing! I just wish she'd been wearin' a skirt so I could see up it. Oh, my, God! Blank would've shit his pants if he knew I got to feel up a princess! A princess! Muhahaha!" _Zidane ignored how much his 'evil laughter' seemed to resemble Baku's guffaw even in his own head.

And if only the twins could have heard the part about, _"But I wish I had been able to finish! God almighty why did the prune face have to come in when Sally was getting so close to my first in weeks! How do you rub one out when there's a girl sleeping in your tent with a lance longer than you are tall! It's not fair! Now...if Freya would rub it out for me! Ohhhhh, likey! Or, or! If Dagger could convince both of them to rub it out at the same time..."_ No one made it a personal point to remind Zidane he was drooling again. He did that sometimes. It was best left unexplained. He'd shouted obscenities into the air the last time someone had asked if he was okay. It was not as funny as it sounded when your liege and protector was issuing a royal proclamation.

Of course, that meant that everyone could only rationally assume that Zidane was drooling over the image of one Freya Crescent as she danced with the other scantily-clad Burmecians with far more skin visible than anyone of the royal court would have found appropriate. At the same time, it was essentially true that Zidane was drooling over the image of _a_ Freya Crescent, not just the real one burning daggers into his head despite his abject abandonment of reality.

* * *

As for the two oddballs, it seemed as if time couldn't move fast enough. Sure this was all well and important, but as Vivi took another fake drag out of his burning twig he couldn't help but want to look out over the horizon again with Quina. It was...weird by any stretch of the imagination and Zidane had taken a point of having him examined the first time he mentioned something like this back in Lindblum, but it didn't change its' existence.

How do you accurately explain that you knew you had been molested in your sleep by something not of your species and were both interested and terrified by the idea that something had essentially taken a piece of you and eaten it like any pirahna might devour the flesh of another meat-covered animal? How do you go on to explain that you willfully pretended to be asleep the second time, and by the third time you openly pushed your tent partner into the other tent with the weird lady so that you sleep with the larger, warmer companion? It just wasn't natural. Of course, neither was smoking branches.

With an almost disinterested sigh, Vivi rubbed the smoldering end of the Cleyran branch into the ground to put the dim fire out. Looking around with no real intent for the moment as the Burmecians began the lyrical ting of the harp and the ba-dum of their feet pounded into the ground, Vivi couldn't help but wonder why nothing felt right.

He gave his pointed hat a nervous shift as he inherently felt the shifting of nature around them. Something bad was going to happen soon. Couldn't this morbidly festive crowd feel the spine-tingling sensation of Death on their shoulders? Or were they too engrossed with that sensation that they were egging on Death's arrival?

It was an almost cold and detached though which did not fit his personality which criticized the crowd before him as being witless and overly optimistic when they were nothing more than cogs in the machine of Life.

Quina, for hir part, stood with an appreciative and decidely hungry gaze focused on the banquet tables. Surely the gourmet food should be prepared by a gourmet chef! Surely Quina would be better suited to preparing the war meals as hir children marched into the neighboring marshes and conquered all Qu! Surely sure he/she knew! What Qu wouldn't know their better at gourmet if it was a gourmet chef who prepared the war meals? How dare those Alek hobnogs, or whatever these silly people called them, destroy a people willing to do the bidding of the venerable Quina, Gourmet Master of Awesomness and Bodacity!

The drool coming from Quina's cavernous mouth was expected by now from all you deigned to look upon hir. The slight mutterings of conquering the world and gourmet fu was another matter, but they firmly believed that Quina was somehow 'broken' anyway.

* * *

Freya, amongst their fellowship, was the only one actively engaged in the spiritual and cultural meaning behind the ba-dum of her feet and the ting of the harp. It flowed together in a symphony of respect for Reis and a gesture of their devotion in return for the power to maintain the sandstorm which so unhesitatingly defended the Cleyrans for the past 500 years.

Although she felt a sting of burning anger towards Zidane's wanton leer at her ass, it did not change her own spiritual call towards Reis. Now more than ever they needed something which would defend their very way of life, if it might be too cliche to say _existence_.

And no matter how many times she had heard this song it swelled through her very soul! Here the music swelled and her body seemed to ache in its' connection to Reis. The harp and the fast beat their feet. The warm ground and the cooling breeze. The distant howl of the sandstorm sea! Now at the apex of the song and the deliverance of understanding and power from Reis like that of a psychadelic drug coursed through her being for a moment till the snap bought her breath and stole her spleen.

With almost an extratemporal preknowledge, Freya, as the other Burmecians were wont to do as well, turned her head to the Moon Maiden Claire and the devastating thrill of horror which crept up their spines as Claire softly spoke as if the empirical enunciator of Life and Death itself, "The strings have snapped..."

And with that enunciation came with it a silence which extended beyond the crowd of survivors. All around them the world fell to silence as the moment crawled into their minds as a memory seared by the tingling fear seaping through their veins. The birds had stopped whistling. The grass had stopped willowing. But most of all, that which their heads turned to as their very fears materialized before their distraught eyes, sunken into their skulls, the very winds of Reis ceased to howl in the constant thrum of Life which had protected them for 500 years.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed. They only looked. They did not think, nor wheeze, nor grasp at the fading breeze. Their hearts stopped, and their minds were silenced. Their spleens were wrought, and their thoughts did rot. Into nothingness they descended, their existence remended. Their failing hope was lost. Their dying cries...

**(Story)**

**AN: December 31st, 2011: Hey guys! Looky! I managed another chapter before the end of the year...okay...before 2012! I am terribly sorry that my writing has slowed to a snail's pace. I've essentially been writing 1,000 words for every book I finish for one of my classes, which, considering this 4,000 word chapter means that I've read...you're sure smart aren't you guys...four books since the last chapter! If you really want to know the names of those books, I shall treat you to them and the academic world I'm surrounded by.**

**What is History? by E.H. Carr**

**The Practice of History by Geoffery Elton**

**On 'What is History?' by Keith Jenkins and**

**The Defense of History by Richard Evans**

**That makes a total of 937 pages! Or, in word count some 468,500 words on pure theory of history. Yes, I am boasting. None of it is due until at least the 20th of January. But that doesn't mean I'll have time to write fanfiction much next semester either. I still have six more books to go for that class alone, some 1,700 pages. Two books for Traditional Japan or roughly 500 pages. Five books to go for the 19th century Imperialism or roughly 1,300 pages. Three books to go for Plague which looks to be about 600 pages. And a single book on American History or about 180 pages.**

**If my writing slows down even more, don't give up hope: I haven't, and that means that the writing will continue...eventually...intermittently.**

**Review, please?**

**Songs**

**Chapter 1- Lindblum Theme**

**Chapter 2- Freya's Theme**

**Chapter 3- Burmecian Kingdom, Immoral Melody, Kuja's Theme, Sword of Doubt**

**Chapter 4- Cleyra's Trunk, Immoral Melody**

**Chapter 5- Cleyra's Trunk, Cleyra's Settlement**

**Chapter 6- Cleyra's Settlement, Eternal Harvest**

**Chapter 7- Cleyra's Settlement**

**Chapter 8- Main Theme, Eternal Harvet, Getting Away with Murder**


	9. Cleyra Besieged

**AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**Review Commentaries:**

**Zidaneizmnky: **Bear in mind that Squaresoft is limited by its' audience. If they made these scenes as graphic as you could imagine they probably should be in a 'war' of genocide, then their audience would change and they probably wouldn't make as much money as they wanted.

On that note, think of many areas you visit here and the story is a little too...happy-go-lucky for what it seems it should be, especially in some of the more childish animes or games. Naruto is probably the pinnacle of what I consider to have been made kid-friendly and censored.

However, all the same, thanks for the review! I really appreciate them, and hope you continue to enjoy them despite my rather lack of time to post as much as I would like.

**(Story)**

Hark! The iron whistle calls and the blunted grunts of steel.

The screaming shock calls through,

And booms into your ear.

The death dance twirled,

And spun in grace,

As blood slowly,

Ran down your face,

Your eyes shut closed,

And the noises turn to rings,

As life and vision fade,

From your body's,

Scatterings.

When the sands of Cleyra stilled and the permeating silence rung through each attendant's ears, deep bellowing shocks rang through the trunk beneath them as the Alexandrians ran through the first traps on the road to the settlement above.

Freya and Zidane were among the first to recover, Freya's face becoming void as she turned 'off' before the bloody battle while Zidane's face morphed into his somewhat concerned yet not very angry face during battle. Their orders call out over the sounds deep below and gather the amassed 'army' back into order. The majority of men would follow Freya, Zidane, Quina, and Vivi down into the depths of the tree while King Bartholomeus the III would manage the guards in the tree and Primarch Hugo the IX would oversee the healers.

Running side by side, Freya and Zidane led the bulk of the Burmecians and Cleyrans down into the depths, neither casting a glance at one another as they prepared to fight for their lives.

* * *

Victor Yazul had been born a small-time Burmecian man, the sole son of a clock-maker. Growing up in the City of Rain, Victor had had fewer aspirations than to be like Sir Fratley Zazaire, the Head Dragonknight who served both King and Almighty Reis in a manner befitting the man who would one day reclaim the Burmecian people's lost honour.

At the tender age of 16, his father had passed away, simply too old to continue serving as one of the few clock-makers in the kingdom. He was deeply impressed upon by his father's death, and his aging mother's difficulty in handling her husband's death, and so Victor decided to lead the life of a clock-maker, as any father would have expected of his son.

By the ripening age of 23, Victor had both met and found himself a bride in the sterling lass, Mei. Happily married, and somewhat content with his life, Victor noticed the passing of the years with little real care or ambition as he and Mei grew together, had children together, and upon the dawn of the year of 1800 fully expected to die together.

It had been of little notice or care, in much the same manner as much of his life had now passed, that the young princess of Alexandria, the blighted foul presence to the East was to turn 16 today. But just as the distant royal was of little importance to Victor one day, a week later her life and disappearance meant everything to him.

With Princess Garnet's abduction, and the blame pointed towards Burmecia, it was all Victor in his little clock-making shop in the ring outside of Burmecia could do to simply watch events unfold.

A month after her abduction and the gates of hell seemed to be pressing down upon him from all sides. He was one of the few to survive the attack on the city, and even rarer for he to be one of the fewer still who made it to Cleyra. Now, a full 30 years after his decision to be like Sir Fratley Zazaire (a much older Sir Fratley, but all the same) Victor Yazul, a widower and now without children since the siege on Burmecia, wore the armor of the Burmecian Army, and the dirt wore his scattered remains as his life ebbed...away...

* * *

Henri LaCouert would have made an excellent source for historians in the years to follow the Undying Days, the year in which the entire world of Gaia had almost succumbed into permanent death; that is if he hadn't died so young.

A 20 year old Burmecian, he had the whiskers of one coming into adulthood, on the cusp of maturity, and the glint of horror in his eyes that bespoke of the shattered innocent reality he had still inhabited before stepping into the depths of the Cleyran Trunk.

He was an archer of some considerable skill despite his almost utter lack of training, if you could call childhood adventures 'training'. It was for this reason he hung back behind the drives of Burmecian lancers and swordsmen who screamed and gouged out the eyes of the advancing all-female army. He reached up over his shoulder, long rat-like fingers nimbly picking up another arrow, notching it, and aimed a square above an Alexandrian whose head was painted in sweat and blood and hair as she took another swing at the Burmecians' long lances and halberds. A soft twang beside his ear, barely heard over the clink and clank of armor, the flesh-ripping sound of metal penetrating bodies, and the death screams, wails, and grunts of the gathered souls, sounded the arrows' release which he only dimly saw plant itself in her screaming mouth through the cheek and into the back as he located his next target.

He never saw more of her life, her death, or her passage from hither to thither.

* * *

Claire Gaize had been born a street-urchin in the filth of the Alexandrian slums across the channel surrounding much of the pristine city. Unlike the walled and heavily-defended city proper, the slums of Alexandria had, in the past, been rebuilt almost annually during the long and weary wars of the early years of the three kingdoms.

Her life had been surrounded by the dirt and near-starvation that followed the life of a peasant not permitted to leave the slums for fear of the rebellion it would it stir-up.

When, at age 14, a rusty-armored looking knight had seen her being pummeled by older boys in the slums, the knight saved her and placed her in the care of General Beatrix. Though she never expected it, Claire was enlisted and given a place in the army; she became one of the few female supporters of the Knights of Pluto after she learned her hero was its' captain.

At the battle for North Gate, she had been given command, or rather supervision, of five black mages which she used harshly enough that the two she returned to the Army's Command had her reprimanded for misconduct on the battlefield despite her unit's advances along the ridge helping win the battle.

When the longer siege at Burmecia turned from a blood bath into the blood lake it now stood as, Claire had been clawing her way through the streets and collecting the Rat-People's tails for souvenirs to sell back home and help get her family out of poverty.

Here, at the siege of Cleyra, Claire had a mixture of _Rat_ and her own blood splashed on her face, the red paint running in rivulets down her face as sweat from the harsh heat and armor and battle made it look like she was crying blood as she glanced another _Rat_ with the edge of her sword.

As she noticed herself becoming surrounded, she raised her sword for an Eagle strike, to crack it down like lightening on whatever _Rat_ she could take with her, her maw opening for a bloodthirsty and death-accepting roar until the sound choked on the wooded shaft pierced her cheek and stabbed back into her brain. As her body was ready to swing, and her throat sounded a death-gurgled scream of pain and insanity, lances on all sides took their aim and competed for a place to stab her softer, exposed places. In an ironic way, the rusty-armored captain had failed to save her from the final visage of so many faces stabbing her and finding an exposed place to do so.

* * *

Another Bomb released by the Alexandrians exploded on the side of the path and the battle surrounding its' impact ceased only long enough to avoid the sudden exposed drop down to a certain death as those who hadn't died from the Bomb could be heard falling away in an agony of burning and scream of relentless shaking of their fate of certain death.

Freya's frown, by now, was etched into her face as her attempts to destroy the cannoneers who wrecked such havoc on the battlefield had so far failed. The best she had managed was Zidane's reckless, and admittedly heart-wrenching, charge deep into the body of Alexandrians. Forty minutes into this bloodbath and Zidane had made a name for himself as something which would be born out of legend on both sides. Despite being cut off from her command, and any friendly face for that matter, Zidane was still deep within enemy territory and causing enough distraction that the superior numbers of the Alexandrians had yet to extinguish the army a tenth their size.

As she surveyed the battleground, unknowing that an archer a few steps away from her was the same one who had managed to save a fair number of Burmecians with his bow and arrows, Freya felt a desperation tug deep in her gut, trying to wrench her spirits from her grasp. The bluish woman ignored its' tug and had thus far only ascertained that the Alexandrians were much better organized than her rabble of an 'army'.

To be fair, Burmecian backwardness in military matters had begun long before the advent of the airship. It had begun in the failure of successive Burmecian kings to capitalize on their position in the wars of the Mist Continent, slowly falling behind as their magically-enhanced Dragonknights were out gunned and outpaced by formal military strategy in both Lindblum and Alexandria.

The whole reason the Burmecians had lost at both North Gate and Burmecia lay in the fact that the _elite_ Dragonknight soldiers were, despite their official position, not trained as officers. They were more advanced and powerful pawns or bishops on the battlefield than rooks or knights.

And now, Freya, perhaps one of the last Dragonknights in the entire realm, stood in her official capacity to command her 'army' and had little practically or even theoretical idea of how to do so. So she resorted to a caution which had tested the patience and viability of armies the world over. She was so immersed in her considerations of how to take this or that partition that her ultimate goal became clouded over in a hazy fog of wild abandonment.

As her men screamed and cried for help, 'the flank is falling', 'we need clerics!', 'BOMB!', 'Reis save u-...', Freya was becoming lost in the void of death that surrounded her until her mind had finally bent under the pressure. The very least she could do was save their savior. Standing up from her cover elicited a response faster than might be expected.

The Alexandrians feared a ploy on the battlefield and orders harshly sounded a retreat while they continued to wear down the scourge in their midst, decimating their forces. The Burmecians, however, thought her standing meant it time to charge, and as one they advanced upon the retreating, stumbling, backpedaling Alexandrians. Quickly, the unorganized nature of the Burmecian battle-strategy and numerous volunteers overtook the battle as the few 300 Burmecians left stormed down upon the retreating Alexandrians.

It took Freya a moment to shake herself and leap to the fore of the battle as a cannoneer managed to target her location at last, a Bomb taking away the life and solidity of Henri LaCouert's body.

The air whipped past her, and the soldiers a sea of colours as Freya's red form landed beside Zidane as he wearily tore down another soldier in the ring surrounding him. A moment's pause in the battle gave rise to comment, "Took you long enough..." the bloodied Zidane heaved the words as though they were heavier than his thieves' sword.

With something akin to a wry grin, Freya felt a thick, bushy tail reach into her coat pocket and pull out the potion there and heard a moment later the sound of a pop and greedy swallowing. While he chugged, she held the enemy at bay, who still dared to surround them while the rabble of Burmecians pressed upon the retreating Alexandrian horde.

"I couldn't wait for you to dig your tail into my pockets again..." she responded, hearing a choke and cough as some of the contents from the potion splashed into an Alexandrian's eyes, burning them out of her skull.

As her screams of pain filled the air around them, and her body writhed on the floor below them, a tectonic shake announced the arrival of airships. Freya and Zidane glanced at one another, their moment having passed as they stormed past the Alexandrians back up the tree's trunk.

Somewhere along the way they were joined by Quina and Vivi who had been guarding on the smaller paths up the trunk. The four heroes raced upward, drinking potions quietly as they raced against time to protect the women and children atop the tree.

Just beyond the entrance they found a ghoulish sight as black mages spawned in the middle of formations and on top of houses, casting spells and in general causing havoc. The town, being made of wood, and their surroundings being wood and leaves, had in quick succession made a burning nightmare out of the safe haven in the sky. The fire in lower Cleyra was so out of control that even the charred remains of black mages could be found here and there as the heroes made their way towards the Great Hall.

Just beyond the fierce-looking guards forming a semi-circle around the front of the Great Hall lay a scene truly worth beholding. There, the king and his Prince Puck stood with clerics trying to heal a dying Primarch and the whole world seemed to shake the bombardments by the airships wrenched the earth beneath their feet from its' complacent home. Outside the smoldering holes attested to the barrage rained down upon their heads.

It was a weary moment, stilled by the life of Primarch ebbing away, the solemn mood of this Reis-forsaken home, and the cries outside as black mages could be heard decimating the guards till a throaty cry of rejoicement was torn from the throat of a survivor, "Sir Fratley!"

All eyes turned towards door as an the unseen hero emerged from the hell outside. He looked the same as if he had never changed, even the feather in his hat had the same discolorations along its' ridge.

The royal king and prince welcomed the sight, and Puck bounced towards the knight to greet him. Others stayed back out of fear that this was a trick of their desperate eyes. Quina and Vivi had only ever heard of the man, but his tall stature and scarred tail bespoke of the power under his grasp. And Freya...

Freya looked torn, a mixture of happiness and sadness splitting her body and soul. Her mind raged at his sudden appearance, that only the final hour of their race demanded his attention from his 'quest' while her heart was equal parts of spurned and hopeful.

* * *

A moment passed, and then another, and the dejection of the room swirled like a vortex around Freya's downcast head. He had barely even remembered his own name, let alone the promise the ribbon on her tail meant. He had been gone for so long he had forgotten her, forgotten everything!

It was a dim realization that their ideal saviour in this moment had mentally died years ago. Here was nothing but a shell of a man they once called general, comrade, subject, and friend.

Yet their moment of somber quietness surrounding the distant Sir Fratley was broken by the mind-wrenching tear of flesh and wretching as they turned to the dying words of the Moon Maiden Claire, "No!"

There, in the corner of the Great Hall, stood the nemesis of their war: Beatrix. And of all things, in her hand, was the Desert Star. It was rumored to give life to the Cleyrans and fuel the sandstorm which protected them. It's real purpose had been lost in the previous 500 years at some point or another. All that mattered now was that Beatrix was there before them, and in a moment was running out the door with their precious jewel.

A demented Fratley had left the scene in his insane wanderings, followed only on the heel by Prince Puck. The four heroes, in turn, gave chase to their enemy and confronted her outside the Great Hall as the _Red Rose_ hovered high in the sky above them.

Zidane called out to her, taunting, "Think you can get away?" The heroes footsteps close behind hers.

She stopped and seemed to consider it as if it were a joke a friend would tell in a pub, "Get away?" Her head reared back as she laughed loudly at his expense, "Hahaha!"

When her laughing subsided she began pacing, finding a good spot for this battle, "You're a bigger fool than I imagined..." she began, reveling in Zidane's rage: the hunter had become the hunted. "Have you forgotten how badly I beat you back in Burmecia?"

With a humorless, and thin-lipped frown, Freya leveled her lance at the Alexandrian's throat and replying, "So, you are more the fool for not finishing what you started!" Her blood was boiling for vengeance against this woman. Her very tail was rattling in her rage.

Even anxious little Vivi felt his ire rise at this woman, "You're gonna pay!"

Feeling hir little partner's anger, Quina felt the need to speak up for once in a seriousness which did not befit hir, "I find no tasties in this town, so we cook you for breakfast!"

All of this only seemed to give mirth for Beatrix and in a sickeningly sweet voice for a woman with an eye patch she said, "Then allow me to shatter your visions of grandeur."

As the dialogue ceased, the two sides lined up and prepared for battle, knowing the outcome of this battle would differ this time.

And yet...

**(Story)**

**AN: June 6th, 2012: Holy crap! That is one of the longest I have ever written for a chapter. That, if nothing else, should show you the dedication I have for making progress in this story. It really means a lot to me in producing it for your entertainment and perusal.**

**Obviously, the time-line I made a couple of chapters back is going to be kind of wonky, but that's the general plot line (follow the game's events for the most part), but I'm probably going to partition sections I might have lumped earlier into separate chapters so that I can give more detail to the interesting sections.**

**As always, reviews are appreciated and they continue to insure that I'm not going to steal your soul. ...Maybe...**


	10. The Second Battle

**AN: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy IX universe except the crazy ideas I may write about for your viewing pleasure.**

**Review Commentaries:**

**StormViper: **I'm glad you think so. I tend to enjoy the odd couples in fandom myself: Harry/Luna, Tenchi/Noike, Lelouch/Kaguya, and so on and so forth that I won't bother to list here. I've been really busy so no chapter until now, but part of the problem is that these chapters are very musically oriented. I draw the emotion from particular songs (as seen from the list I've made often from the progression of the canon music).

On such a note the song I recommend is Europa by Globus.

Without further adieu let us come to that battle I promised.

**(Story)**

Reis was an image carved into the mindset of the Burmecian _rat_. Flanked on all sides by the major hunting grounds of the Grand Dragon, it was no surprise that a draconic figure became the centerpiece of the Burmecian culture. Reis was the mightiest of all dragons, and could be identified with as many as four pre-historical real dragons which were nearly twice as large as contemporary dragons.

Her rise in the Burmecian narrative accounted for the rise and demise of the current geo-political order. Her favor was granted to Ypress the IV in 1303 during the 5th Lindblum War which established the dragon knight, and by extension Reis, as the socio-political vanguard of the 14th century: a power which would last until the advent of the airship in the 18th century.

The Alexandrians, on the other hand, had often been forced to fill the ranks of their army with women against external threats when in times of yore the men of Alexandria had fought one another for the throne almost from the founding of the kingdom. This had, in the course of time, epitomized the woman as leader within Alexandrian society.

When the 15th Lindblum War broke out in 1389, already nine wars having passed since 1303, General Magdalene with only nine soldiers stood on the banks of Ysatch river, which ran through the lowlands of the Alexandrian kingdom, and held off wave after wave of Lindblumian rank and file charged them. The skies were filled with arrows, and the ground littered with mounds of bodies. That day, the Ysatch ran read from the Dark Forest to the mountains once more. Ironically, it was one of the best harvesting seasons of the land.

And the lands of the Misty Continent struggled for centuries in this manner. The Lindblumians more akin to a large empire; the elite vanguard of the Burmecians; and the all-female idols of the Alexandrians.

Now while the Lindblumians struggled to do anything at all, the old rivalry stood epitomized as the High General of Alexandria and the Commanding Dragoon et al. fought to the death in the burning ruins of the dispossessed Cleyrans.

* * *

Vivi began the battle as he was wont to do, by slinking into the back and focusing on his magical core. Quina, as s/he was often reminded to do, stood guard in front of Vivi and brandished hir overwhelmingly large gourmet fork at Beatrix.

Meanwhile Freya lept into the air and Zidane did his best to pickpocket from Beatrix' pockets.

As the fire ate away at the ancient tree on which they were standing, Beatrix launched a barrage of strikes against Zidane's double-edged butterfly who grit his teeth and parried her attacks as he could.

"You don't stand a chance beastling," Beatrix mocked the little monkey boy who was hard pressed to keep up with the professional soldier.

"I ain't givin' up you bitch!" Zidane brandied words with her as they, mostly she, managed to land light scoring nicks on the other. It took a moment before Zidane heard the usual 'pip' sound that meant he needed to dodge.

Without taking his eyes off of her, Zidane kicked up of the dirt at Beatrix' face with his tail, taking her momentary confusion to dive low to the side and roll away. Without seeing it, Zidane heard the 'fwoosh' of one of Vivi's fireballs and not longer after the thunderstrike-imitation of Freya's trident once again coming into orbit.

With Beatrix turning to focus on the renewed threat, Zidane quietly began to sneak around her.

"It would figure that the _rats_ couldn't fight a fair fight," Beatrix taunted Freya as if it just rolled off her tongue, "or allow themselves to use _faulty_ equipment," this time she looked pointedly over towards Vivi. This was a mistake though, because such comments angered the team's gourmet chef.

"YOU NO HURT QUINA QUINA'S POINTY-HAT!" shouted the deranged Qu as s/he bounced towards Beatrix and smacked at the offensive Alexandrian.

When the Alexandrian actually struggled with the force of Quina's anger, Freya and Zidane shared a look, and in that look they understood that this time they actually stood a chance: a real—fighting chance!

If only...

* * *

As Beatrix stood over the fallen heroes once more she looked at them with an aura of contempt, and a fair dose of remorse. So much blood...

She turned her back on the heroes for a second time and left them to die where they lay.

With a bare glance she touched the shoulder of a retreating mage and was sucked up in the magical teleportation.

The groaning yet still animate bodies of the four heroes writhed on the ground as they tried to get up.

Freya's face lay in the dirt as she helplessly struggled to lift herself up. That monster had bested her twice now! When she got her claws on that heinous...! A snarling gasp escaped her lips as she pushed herself off the ground and surveyed the others. Vivi was out cold, laid out against Quina was still half-trying to protect the little mage from further harm.

And Zidane? Zidane lay in a dark pool of blood, face down in the shallow pool. His arms seemed to be trembling—probably still covering the bloody gash that Beatrix had wrent in in his chest.

Freya's mind flashed with the thought that he may seriously die, and it scared her.

Without a moment's hesitation she stood, grunting in pain, and without a thought tossed each of her friends towards a mage teleporting away before she managed to do so for herself. What awaited on the other side of that bright magic ball was not going to be pleasant...but as she passed out, Freya was too preoccupied planning how to stow away for the time being and heal her friends to notice the the otherworldly Odin come out of the sky and split the last Burmecian home asunder.

A dark day for any Burmecian...all who still lived not yet knowing they were without a home.

**(Story)**

**AN: February 23rd, 2013: WOW?! Has it really been that long? I promise it's not like I forget about my stories. I just have so much work to do...but seriously? Nine months? I guess my few fans have been _pregnant_ with anticipation! Ah Ah Ah...please don't hurt me?**

**Maybe a scolding review would be lovely?**


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